Khans and Conquerors
by coincidencless
Summary: The galaxy is broken, rotten from within. A firm hand is needed to unite the galaxy and bring peace. Cari Alvie, the newly-crowned Great Khan of the Imari Horde, intends to do just that.
1. Prologue: The Drums of War

**I do not own Stellaris. Paradox Interactive does.**

 **Thanks to R. Moonstalker for editing!  
**

 **Chapter published 4/28/18.**

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Cari Alvie

She stood outside the sealed door, staring at it with concealed fear. Cari took a deep breath through her nostrils, grinding her beak against itself.

Everything was ready. All the paperwork was filed, all the preparatory ceremonies were complete. There was just one thing left to do; be officially crowned as the Great Khan of her people.

Her tailfeathers, perfectly brushed, quivered. Her arms, tucked against her chest, trembled and sent the wing-like feathers along them shaking. Nervous anticipation boiled and churned within her, so Cari forced herself to take another calming breath.

Through the door ahead of her was the ceremony chamber of this habitat. Normally it was reserved for formal duels between clan leaders, but one of the reforms she had negotiated was the formation of regulated arenas where her people could blow off steam non-murderously and good-naturedly.

With a hiss, the door opened on its own, sliding up and out of sight. Calm and collected, she strode forward into the chamber, following the narrow path.

This was not the greatest honor she would achieve. This was not the greatest achievement she would grasp. Not if she had her way.

The relics of the chamber's arena days were quite visible in its layout, painted in mottled black and gold. All along the outskirts of the round room were rows of seats, filled to bursting with fellow Imari of all clans and colors. That they mingled so well warmed her heart; golden Imari from clan Shrieking Talon sat next to the rusty birds of clan Thrashing Beak. Bright white plumage from her own home clan, Slashing Feather, next to the icy-blue of clan Darkened Aerie. Many more lesser clans mingled among the four major ones, not a hint of distrust between them.

It was happening. It was finally happening. Years of struggle, of rising through the ranks, of proving her worth, had all come to this.

She walked down the central path. Pale blue lights shone down onto her, and she was surrounded by the hundreds of elevated seats in the vast, circular chamber. Ahead of her, the path went up a trio of glowing steps to a wide, central disk elevated above the ground. In the center was an ornate nest, illuminated from above, with wing-rests that spilled their own lights on the ground and twin spots of glowing red. It was more than a nest. More than a throne. It was the symbol of everything she had achieved, and the tool to achieve her future goals.

Cari walked forward, her wing-arms tight against her chest. The colorful feathers on her forehead bobbed with each step. The only noise was the soft _click click_ of her golden, polished talons and the soft shuffle of her tailfeathers dragging on the ground. Her breaths came shallow through her nostrils, not nearly enough to sate her thudding heart. With a force of will she swallowed her fears and ascended the steps with a dancer's grace.

Standing beside her soon-to-be throne were four Imari, one for each of the main clans. Cari had made it her business to know as much of them as she could; their names, their favored combat strategies, the names of their first pets, everything. She approached them gracefully, and stopped once she stood before them, two to either side of her. Straight ahead was the throne.

Respectfully, she fanned open her plumage, training the eyespots on them. Her gizzard churned and her heart pounded hard enough to echo in her earholes. She struggled to keep her beak closed; this was not the time to be chirping like an excited chick.

"Captain Cari Alvie," began Physeta Arkan, his own white plumage open as he stared right at her. "Today, we gather to review your accomplishments; the triumphs you have brought, the friendships you have forged, all that you may lead us into a new age, and to see unto you the just rewards for your service." He bobbed his head. "You have brought great honor to our clan. You have gone on many a raid against the outsiders, brought back crates of plasteel and depleted uranium, mountains of food, and enough credits to purchase a planet, all with record low casualties and times."

"You have shown kindness to us," Sapi Popoka continued, her icy feathers soothing Cari's raging heart. "When illness struck our habitats, it was you who provided aid and relief, and guarded us from those who may do us harm, until we could stand on our own again."

"You have guarded our positions," Akrok Yukonna said, shifting his ruby feathers back and forth hypnotically. His orange eyes bored into her, seeking and searching. She kept her posture strong; he would find no weakness. Not here. Not now. "Even when we were doing the bidding of the cowardly Vulo, you ensured we had warm nests and fine grain to return to, rather than a coup."

"We have debated long, and concluded that you are the leader we need, for these reasons and more," finished Emeraldplume Aruk, sizing her up and down. "Cari Alvie, do you swear to protect our people, lead us into glorious battle, and take the glory and power that should've been ours long ago?"

For a terrifying heartbeat she feared she'd lost her voice. But she opened her beak, and her voice was as calm and steady as it'd ever been. "I so swear," she agreed.

Aruk crooned quietly in admiration. The gentle hum of her psychic powers confirmed that it was in earnest. "Then by the power given to us, by might and right, we hereby crown you Great Khan of the Imari People! Your dreams are our dreams, your vision our vision, your word our order."

It was like the floor fell away beneath her. Her head buzzed with dizziness. It'd happened. It'd actually happened. Like in a dream she strode forward, dipping her head to each of the clan leaders in turn, and climbed onto the throne. She turned. She sat, hiding her feet beneath her body. She gazed out at the gathered crowd. The speech, how had the speech gone? She'd practiced it so many times.

"The galaxy considers us rot," she began. "The Vulo and the nations of the Conjoined Species look down at us and see us as mindless barbarians, barely more than animals. The Empire of Shadows look at us and see another puppet state. And at our borders, the vile Stranglevine Composters gather their fleets, thinking us an easy mark. Are they to be correct?" she asked.

In response, boos filled the chamber, spaced with angry squawks. She waved her tailfeathers in agreement. "They see us as rot, and yet it is _they_ who are soft and effete. How many other species have traveled the stars, how many others have we effortlessly plundered, that are no longer here? Even the old ones retreat to their lives of leisure and decadence, with hardly the skill to pilot a mining vessel. Thus I swear to you that a new age begins. The galaxy will kneel before us, or be swept aside like so much dust. We will have space to spread our wings and fly. Worlds upon worlds, riches we can only dream of, songs sung in our glory as we rid the stars of the weak and the savage. All will be united under one nation; _our_ nation. This, your Great Khan promises you!"

Riotous cheers filled the chamber. Cari took a deep breath through her nostrils as her people, her _subjects_ , roared their approval. She sprung to her feet and gestured to the horizon with her arms. "Now, we go to our ships! We assemble our warriors and set out on our fleets! I have personally gathered a list of the most fearsome among us, to serve with me on an armada that will have even the Sapon Remnant trembling. A new age has begun - the age of the Imari Horde!" she finished.

The stands exploded, birds standing and cawing, bustling and shoving for the exits, playfully slapping each other with their wings. Cari herself strode from her throne, the four clan leaders falling into file beside her.

"A rousing speech, Great Khan," Physeta said.

"You flatter me," she said simply, heading for the nearest exit. "But the day is not over. There is still much to be done, least of all is to announce our reign to the galaxy at large."

"Is that truly wise?" Akrok asked quickly as they entered a corridor, glancing at her. "If we are to attack the soft nations, especially the Composters, then the element of surprise would be in our favor, no?"

"If we were dealing with emotionless machines or a pack of animals, certainly," she agreed, walking through the halls of the space station, making way for her private quarters. "However, intimidation goes a long way. Specifically for the Vulo." Without stopping she turned her head to look at him, her tailfeathers open wide to give him her respect. "You served alongside them, no? Fighting that..." She waved a talon. "... ancient fortress in their space."

He nodded, eyes sparkling. "Indeed. That was a glorious month!"

"Would that I had been there." They stopped at a door, and she waved it open so the five of them could proceed. "I meant every word I said; the Vulon leaders are simpering cowards, but they gave you the spoils of war, did they not?"

He hummed. "Certainly, they did. Those encoders and decoders have been working marvelously."

"Precisely. The Vulo may be unable to fight their own battles but they are not without their loyalty. And more importantly, not without their troubles. I announce to them our mission, and they will bend over backwards to give us what we need if only we will spare them, and focus our fury on their neighbors." Her face hardened. "But no, the Stranglevine Composters will receive no message, no warning. They are nothing but savage butchers and we will dismantle them."

Akrok dipped his head. "That is good to hear, your greatness."

They arrived at her chamber doors. The gleaming metal was sealed, with a screen of black glass on the right side. She stopped and turned to the four leaders. "I am happy to put your minds at ease. Now, please attend to your duties. We all have much to do if our people are to have a prosperous future. Physeta, please stop by at light-on tomorrow. I need to discuss a few crew changes on the Windstorm Voidwings with you. And Sapi, if you can please come by at high-light, I want to fly some health service proposals by you."

"Of course," he said.

"I shall be there," she replied.

One by one they left, Emeraldplume and Sapi tapping on their personal tablets with one talon as they walked. Cari, for her part, calmly placed a hand to the glass plate on the door and let it scan her talons. A moment later it beeped green and the doors slid open. She relaxed her tailfeathers enough to let them drag behind her, and slipped inside right before the doors could close on her.

Only once she was inside did Cari allow herself to chirp excitedly, filling the room with her excited squeaks. She hopped around, fluttering her arms up and down and clenching her talons on the luxurious green carpet. "I did it! I did it I did it I did it!" she cheered, throwing herself onto her nest. She closed her eyes and thrust her head into the cushions, chirping repeatedly.

Abruptly she sat up, one of her crown feathers drooping in front of an eye. She pushed it back into place and took a deep, calming breath. "Okay, okay. Not done yet." Cari hopped out of her nest, taking a moment to survey the room. It was fit for a Great Khan, with metal walls painted in soothing shades of violet. Not exceptionally spacious, but still a luxury on the cramped space habitat. The floor was covered in a carpet, colored like a forest. There was a doorway leading to a private bath, and a seldom-used wardrobe. The wardrobe was a leftover tradition from ancient history, from when her people needed to entreat with aliens that had nudity taboos. For now, it collected dust.

Her nest was wide enough for herself and several concubines, and the cushions were the same blue and white of her plumage. Off to the left were drawers of various trinkets she'd gathered over her short life. In one of them was her personal tablet, currently charging.

But the dominant feature of her chambers was the outlook. Bathed in soothing blue light, it stuck out from the edge of the habitat into the vacuum of space, with reinforced one-way glass giving her a view of the entire system. The local black hole sat far below, eternally distorting the stars. Above it, hundreds of stations and habitats and thousands of ships hovered, each covered in a cloud of service vessels.

Cari Alvie's eyes were drawn to the closest ship, whose size dominated her field of view. The size of a small asteroid, the IHE Midnight Tenu was to be her flagship. Long and gray, with a thin front that blossomed outward to a heavy rear, it bristled with the finest weapons her people had, and within the week she would be aboard, leading her people to a bright future and leading the galaxy at large to peace.

The reminder of her duty hardened her eyes. Peace. There was so much to do before peace could reign in the galaxy. So many worlds to conquer, so many fleets to break. She stepped over to the drawer, grabbed her clear, plastic tablet, and placed it up against the nearest wall. It magnetically stuck to the painted metal walls, and after booting it up and going through some of the functions, she reached the camera.

Cari stepped back and fanned out her tailfeathers. She adjusted the metal torc around her neck, cleared her throat, smoothed her feathers, and gestured with a talon for her tablet to begin recording.

"Greetings. I am Cari Alvie," she began sagely, wracking her memory for the speech she'd composed. ", Great Khan of the Imari Horde. I am here to announce to the galaxy that a new age has begun. Gone are the dark days when my people would senselessly slaughter each other for scraps of resources and misdirected honor." Cari softened her voice. "I have solemnly promised my people a new age, through the formation of a great empire that will forever enshrine our names in galactic history." She narrowed her eyes, gave a menacing wiggle of her tailfeathers, and hardened her tone. "To those who would oppose us, know this; nothing will stop me from realizing the true destiny of my people. Stand in my way, and your forces shall be ground to dust. End recording."

There. Done. Short and to the point. Cari approached her tablet and pulled it from the walls. She'd need her servants to analyze it, give her feedback, and edit it. When it was done, the finished product would be sent to the so-called 'civilized' nations of the stars. Then she'd need to strong-arm the Grand Vulon Clan into serving her, if they didn't on their own. Her fleet would need to be readied... so many things needed doing. She would rise to the challenge, as she had many times before.

She looked back through the window, staring ponderously at the flagship of her fleet. Her heart thrummed within her chest. Soon, so very soon, her quest would begin in earnest.

If she had her way, the title of Great Khan would not be the greatest honor she would achieve. It would not be the greatest achievement she would grasp.

But without doubt, _this_ was the most pivotal day of her life.

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 **Please do leave a review, let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 1: Reassignment

**I do not own Stellaris. Paradox Interactive does.**

 **Thanks to R. Moonstalker for editing.  
**

 **Chapter published 5/9/18.**

 ** **Reminder that I routinely update the status of the next chapter on my profile.****

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A Few Days Later

Modrig den Tarrob

The sun lightly kissed his russet fur, and that meant it was time to wake up.

He turned over in his bed and, with a groan, got to all fours. He stretched his left paw forward and his right leg back. Out, and back in. Then his right paw and left leg. Out, and back in.

Modrig stretched a few more times, then slid out of his bed, rubbing the sleep and gunk from his eyes. His gaze wandered over his light-blue carpet, and to the glass sliding door of his penthouse suite. The star Vulot had just risen over the frozen plains, reflecting off the ice and seemingly dipping the city in molten copper. The city itself, the capitol of the entire empire, was a thing of beauty. Rising skyscrapers, sprawling museums and schools, monolithic businesses and ministries, surrounded by a circuitboard of buzzing streets and dotted with gardens of hardy plants. It never ceased to amaze him how many people there were, so close yet so far, each with their own rich lives. The sonder brought a smile to his muzzle.

He stepped forwards to the door and pulled it open, letting the arctic breeze ruffle his fur. Out on the balcony was his own private garden, growing neatly in its plot of earth against the marble railing. Modrig walked over to it and tended to the plants with the tools in his toolbox. Some clipping for the tangled yeetroot, some water - specially warmed so as not to freeze - for the imported Earth tomatoes, and no care needed for the hardy faitgrass. He sighed contentedly as he tended the garden, his heart swelling and his long ears warming.

Once done, he stepped back inside and closed the door, getting an eyeful of his bedroom. There was the one-person bed, pushed against the creamy walls with its perpetually unmade sheets. There was the television across from it, little more than a black screen of glass. There was the doorway to his shower, the towering closets holding his robes, a floor mirror, another doorway and, more importantly, a set of weights in the corner.

He made his way to them, picked out four heavy weights, then crossed his legs and faced the mirror. Modrig placed two of the blocky pieces of metal halfway to the mirror, and rested the other two in his palms. Staring at himself in the mirror, he began lifting the two in his hands. Up, down. Up, down.

After ten repetitions, he furrowed his brow. In the mirror he saw the simmering, glowing purple in his eyes flare as he reached out with his telekinesis. He lifted one weight with his right arm, and one of the further ones with his psionics. Left arm, left weight, two at a time.

Modrig worked up a good burn, then took a break just sitting and breathing through his nose, twitching it now and then. He finished a few more sets, then placed the weights back. With sore arms, he headed for his kitchen.

The morning passed in a gentle blur. He made a quick breakfast of red meat. Ran on all fours on his treadmill. Ate breakfast. Showered. Put on a fresh robe. With all that done he scurried back into bed, grabbed his transparent tablet from underneath it, and went to work.

His smile soon shriveled and died. There was a message from Seban, asking permission to extend a commercial campaign's duration. There were a multitude of housing updates from Isabella, one of the few humans he had working for him. News stories from the outer colonies, the core worlds, from other nations even. Even delegating, there was so much to handle. Sometimes it felt like the entire nation was on fire, and he was frantically running around handing out buckets. Alas, nobody ever said running the Ministry of Benevolence was easy.

He sighed, tapping away on the screen as he looked through his messages again. A new update from Isabella, another news story about the outer colonies being worried about the Imari Horde on their doorstep, a royal summons from the king -

Modrig choked on his breath and rolled out of bed, landing with a yip on the floor. His tablet hit the carpet with a soft _whumph._ Scrambling for it, Modrig grabbed the tablet and brought it up to his eyes, reading under his breath. "Modrig den Tarrob, you are hereby formally requested to appear before King Jorim den Vathrag. Appear by the palace at 14:35 on the sixteenth of Jalsm. Dress is informal. Have ID on paw." The message ended with some security regulations, and the seal of the king; a pale gray insignia with a pair of teal lines coming down from the top and into the bottom left and bottom right, inscribed with a circle that had a slice pulled out of it.

He glanced at the clock on his tablet, only for his eyes to go wide and his ears to flatten against his skull. It was already 12:41!

Modrig leaped up from the ground and dashed around his home. He brushed his fangs vigorously and swished mouthwash around his tongue. He took off his casual, even-white robes and put on something more appropriate for a royal summons; pale brown, with red trimmings. He hurried around, making sure he had his tablet with his ID code ready to be scanned. With that done Modrig rushed out his door, locked it behind him, and hurried down the stairs.

Ten floors and two minutes later, he was on the streets. Being outside and watching the crowds was like watching a hundred different puzzle pieces scrambled together. Dozens of his fellow Vulo walked around him, silent as they conversed with telepathy. Dotting them were some of the other species the Grand Vulon Clan had come across over the centuries. Some mostly-hairless humans, draconic Bryll towering above the crowd, even a few lumbering synthetics that stood out by their lack of a... it was hard to describe. They lacked the 'glow' that organic brains had.

Modrig found a street console, tapped a few buttons on it, and a moment later a blue self-driving taxi pulled up on the curb. He crawled inside, relaxing against the plush leather seats.

"Where to, Mr. den Tarrob?" the onboard computer asked as he adjusted his tail.

"The palace, please," he said.

"The palace it is," it replied. Smooth and gentle, the taxi accelerated and merged with traffic. Modrig settled against the seat and gazed out through the windows as the city passed around him. Already, the sky was darkening with clouds; the forecast yesterday had predicted a blizzard and, amazingly, it looked like they were right.

As they traveled, Modrig thought about what was happening. A royal summons. What could it be for? Had he broken some obscure law? He didn't think he had; Modrig made it his business to know the law. Was he in danger of some sort? Hard to believe; Modrig wasn't in the public spotlight despite his high-ranking job. Just the fact that he could walk out and get a taxi without bodyguards was proof of that. Did the King need something from him? But then why not send a message containing the request?

... unless this was something so important it could only be relayed face to face. Modrig's throat felt tight.

Traffic was slow. By the time Modrig's taxi parked on the side of the street, he had maybe half an hour until his audience. He hurriedly paid the taxi with a few taps on his tablet, got out, and stood before the palace.

The royal palace was golden and rounded, with towering arches supported by elaborate, curving beams. The walls were patterned with hundreds of curving lines, like a jig-saw puzzle put together. Gardens sprawled around outside, soaking up the frigid air. Vines curled over the gleaming structure, which towered over the nearby schools and businesses, but not _quite_ over the skyscrapers; it was an old building, rebuilt many times but rarely changing in layout. In front of him was a wide rectangular field, with stairs leading out from all sides into domed-roof buildings, each connected by elaborate hallways. Modrig walked dead ahead, up one of the flights of stairs, and into an exceedingly lavish atrium.

Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, blazing with electric candles. More plants filled the room, and creepers spiraled along the walls. The chamber was large enough to host a formal ball, and had not long ago when the Obevni Trade Commission and the United Nations of Earth sent representatives to renew their trade deals. At the moment, however, it was empty save for a pedestal and chairs up against the walls. The two elaborate doors, painted to look like wood, were locked.

Modrig approached the pedestal, and waved a paw over the glowing blue screen. He tapped a few buttons and input a few names and numbers. It gave him several instructions, such as to dispose of any loose metal or wires, disclaimers acknowledging that he would be taped for the duration of his presence, and reminding him of the presence of armed guards. He went through it all and with twenty minutes to spare, it told him to take a seat and wait to be called. Doing as it said, he rested in the plush seats, and silence engulfed him. No noise beyond the anxious thoughts in his head. What could possibly warrant a royal summons for him? He thought up several ideas, each more horrible than the last. He brought his tail over into his lap and began stroking it in a vain attempt to calm the ball of worry in his gut.

Time passed. The light shining through the windows grew dimmer, or was that just his imagination?

Finally a door slid open, and a synthetic stomped out to greet him. "Modrig den Tarrob," it said, raising a bronze arm. "Follow me. I will lead you to your scheduled meeting with his Majesty."

Modrig nodded and stood, trying not to look directly at the synth. He'd never admit it out loud, but he didn't like these models. They had no face, just a flat screen with a sensor moving around the chest, so he never knew where to look. When it turned its back to him he gratefully relaxed and followed it into the halls. As they walked he glanced left and right, eying the incredible paintings of the world's many, many glaciers. They took several turns left and right before arriving at a gilded double-door engraved with silver lines.

The synth turned to him, shifting its metal body. "His Majesty is waiting for you right through here," he said.

He dipped his head. "Thank you." Modrig stepped forward and pushed into the next room.

It was an office of sorts. Paintings hung on the walls, and behind an ivory desk was a smoothly curving silver chair, with handrails large enough to be a throne in its own right. On the desk was a tablet, and a black screen of glass lifted so that Modrig couldn't see what was on it. There was a chair for him to sit at. And behind the desk was King Jorim den Vathrag. His fur was gray like smoke, leaving the psionic-purple eyes as shining beacons on his aged face, with a distinct pattern to his fur that the Vulo used to identify each other. He wore ceremonial robes, long and expertly cleaned, the color of fresh snow and lined with sky blue.

He fumbled, crossed his arms, and bowed his head. _'Your Majesty, you honor me with this summons,'_ he said telepathically.

"Modrig den Tarrob, please, sit," the king said aloud, his voice wispy yet unwavering. Modrig took his place in the seat, tail stiff behind him. "A7031, please leave us." The machine stepped back and closed the door, but Modrig had no illusions; if he even looked at the king funny, it could punch through the walls and grab him by the throat. "Modrig - do you mind if I speak aloud? I find it good practice to exercise my throat." He shook his head. "Wonderful! My subject, what do you know about the Imari Horde?"

He frowned, then opened his mouth to speak. " _IIiii_ ," he screeched. His ears splayed back in embarrassment, and he swallowed to wet his throat. Sheesh, and it wasn't like he never spoke verbally. "Iii, I. I. I," he practiced. "I know they've been giving me a lot of headaches these past few weeks. They just unified seemingly out of nowhere around this 'Cari Alvie', and now their ships are getting dangerously close to our spaceports. I've had Isabella giving me stories of riots and protests practically nonstop."

The king nodded. "I imagine they've been giving you trouble, yes. But I mean, with their stated goal?"

Modrig furrowed his brows, trying to look anywhere except directly at his Majesty. There was a golden pen on the desk, he noticed. "I, uh, know that their Great Khan wants to give her _peeeeeeople_ \- ahem." He cleared his throat. "Her people a new lease on life by conquering the surrounding space as room for them. Why, what about it?"

King Jorim smiled. A wry little smile, not even enough to show off a fang. "Because I have been in conversation with Great Khan Cari Alvie yesterday, regarding her future plans." His eyes widened. "Yes, you see, she has some very admirable long-term goals. Unite the galaxy, bring about a new age of prosperity and advancement where all sentient life is equal, and all that." The king sighed. "Though the idea of how she wishes to do it is very. Hmm." He frowned. "Very violent."

That was enough to send a pit into Modrig's stomach. _Violent._ No kidding. He'd grown up on horror stories of what orbital bombardment did to families, of the refugees from what was now Stranglevine space recounting the monstrous actions that the sapient plants had perpetrated. "So what about them, your Majesty?" he asked. "What did you speak with her about?"

"The possibility of a truce between her people and ours. We both have a mutual enemy in the Stranglevine Composters. How much do you know about our rivalry with them?"

Not a lot, but Modrig had to know enough to think up calming advertisements. "I know we have choke points at a few pulsars, but not enough forces to go on an offensive."

"Correct. We do not have the forces to liberate them. But the Imari Horde _does._ Cari Alvie and I discussed this at length, and if our people are to provide assistance to hers, she's more than willing to pass us by and direct her attention to overthrowing the Stranglevinian government." The king's ears twitched, the only tell as to how he felt. "Privately I feel she needs the help; her people are strong, disciplined, and have a long history of spaceflight, but their technology is..." He held out a paw and waved it. "... lacking."

"Your Majesty, you're really suggesting allying with those monsters?" he asked, the word slipping out before he could stop it.

He shrugged. "We really do not have much in the way of options. And I _was_ able to sway the Great Khan somewhat. Initially her demands were for a sizable material tribute, as well as conscripting our citizens as auxiliary forces." A chill ran down Modrig's spine, and his tail's fur stood on end. "You understand why I couldn't do that. We bargained for a while, and eventually we settled on an agreement. We would provide her forces access to our shipyards, as well as our technology." He sighed. "I received much criticism when I gave them the Enigmatic Fortress's encoder and decoder, but I'm glad I established the precedent. We will give them our technology, and in return they will focus exclusively on the Stranglevine Composters."

He nodded slowly, putting the pieces together. "If I may be so bold, I believe I understand why you summoned me. I imagine none of this information is public knowledge yet. You want me to put a positive spin on giving more of our technology to the marauder horde, in return for them savaging their way across our rivals' space."

"No."

Modrig blinked. "No?" he repeated dumbly, as if King Jorim, the noble protector of the nation, had somehow made a mistake.

"No. And this is the part you are _really_ not going to like. While the Great Khan and I were discussing, she also mentioned that she wished to have a few select individuals from our people among her fleet. One of the people she requested was you. She claims she wants you for your various fields of expertise." He snorted, wiggling his black nose distastefully. "In so many words, hostages."

The bottom dropped out from Modrig's stomach, leaving him staring at the king in numb disbelief. "H-Hostages? Me?" he asked faintly.

King Jorim huffed through his nose. "Regrettably. The Great Khan's been keeping an eye on us it seems, she even gave me a _list_. It consists of several people from the Ministry of Benevolence - you included - and some rising captains in the military. They are to be brought to her ships, and to remain there as she forms her empire."

Modrig leaned back and placed a paw to his forehead, whining quietly in his throat and flattening his ears. "Oh," he said at last, stomach flipping inside him. "I, I'm going to guess that wasn't negotiable."

"She made it clear that we either submit to all her demands, or nothing. And with the Stranglevines at our doorstep, we can't fight both her _and_ them. We give her our technology and her hostages, and in return she ignores us and focuses exclusively on our enemies." The king held up a paw. "This is not as terrible as it sounds, however. The Imari Horde is the perfect solution to our problems, and we can direct them like a weapon unto our enemies. Cari Alvie thinks we are serving her, but in reality she is serving us and our interests." King Jorim's eyes softened. "But in order for that to happen, the Great Khan needs to be appeased."

His thoughts stuttered. In his mind's eye he had the view of being on a cramped, dismal spaceship, surrounded by the unruly avians as they murdered their way through space, for months on end. Years on end. _Decades_ on end. His throat tightened and the room spun. _'There has to be a way out of this,'_ he pleaded telepathically, unable to speak normally. But King Jorim's apologetic face was all the answer he needed; there was no way out of it. They couldn't fight a war on two fronts, and they _needed_ something to deal with their enemies. Modrig slumped in his seat, tail going limp. "When do I leave?" he muttered. "Should I hire a replacement, or...?"

"One standard month from now, and yes, if you please."

Modrig's paw, still on his forehead, massaged his headache. "We'll... we can't just portray it as is. We need to... as if we're volunteering. Establishing better relationships with them."

The king nodded solemnly. "Yes, I had thought that as well."

"Maybe I can get through to them? We can get through to them," he stammered, thoughts racing. "Get them to calm down, and maybe convince them and the Stranglevines to accept peace."

King Jorim shook his head sorrowfully, ears flat. "Perhaps, but I've come to consider peace with _them_ a fool's hope. It seems very much that their nation's role in the Great Plan is to be a warning to others. Modrig, I am terribly sorry it has come to this, but the council and I discussed this thoroughly. If there were another way, _any_ way, we'd have taken it. Please, take the rest of today and tomorrow off. Get things in order. After that I'll publicize our assistance to the Imari Horde, and _then_ you can start coming up with announcing your own piece. Ensure it is done well before you are scheduled to leave." He dipped his head. "You are dismissed."

"I - thank you, your Majesty," he said, shakily rising from his seat. Modrig pushed the chair in and, numbly, stumbled out the door. The synth - A7... something - led him out.

For a few minutes they walked in silence through the halls. As they got closer to the atrium, Modrig's thoughts tumbling about in his head, the machine spoke.

"I hope that your meeting with his Majesty was productive and efficient," it droned. In response, Modrig just stared blankly into the synthetic's back. "Silence suggests subject was classified. You appear troubled." When they reached the atrium A7 stopped and turned to him, the blue sensor on its screen roaming over Modrig. Something beeped. "Fifty-two credits, as a gift. I suggest using them to purchase food items you find delicious."

He dipped his head. "Much appreciated." He stepped past the machine and headed for the exit, almost in a daze.

Outside it was already getting dark, even though he hadn't been with the king _that_ long. The sky was black with clouds, and it was snowing. The cascading flakes swirled about in the breeze, dusting the pavement. The streets weren't half just as crowded as before. He walked in a daze, only vaguely following his nose to a restaurant. He didn't know the name, but not long after he walked out with brown paper bags of Bryll cuisine in his paws.

Modrig elected to walk back home. It was good exercise. By the time he got back to his apartment complex the blizzard was well under way; snow howled and shifted in buffeting walls, and the icy gale sliced through the streets and ruffled his fur. The few non-Vulo he saw had wrapped themselves in enough coats to triple their size. The gentle hum of a drowsy city tickled his ears, but all he heard were his restless thoughts.

He was going to the Imari. He was going to the savage marauders as a hostage aboard the Great Khan's ships. He was going to be going into a _war zone.  
_ It echoed in his head, filling his thoughts like buzzing static until he couldn't even think in words anymore.

Modrig stumbled back into his home, locked the door behind him, and collapsed face-first in bed. His legs hurt. His take-out fell somewhere to the floor. He crawled to his cushions, closed his eyes, and struggled to fall asleep.

Sleep did not come for a long time.

* * *

The next day, the world seemed gray.

He got up. He tended to his garden. He vaguely remembered he hadn't performed his nightly prayers yesterday. He didn't feel like doing them now.

Modrig sat in bed, with the covers up to his chin, and turned on the television. He found where he'd dropped the takeout and had breakfast in bed. He tuned to a music channel and used it as background noise. Still eating, he pulled up his tablet and composed a message to his sister:

 _Could Use Some Help_

 _Hey, Faram, can you call me? Something's come up and I'm not feeling too good._

 _\- Modrig_

He reread it, nodded, and sent it. It might be a while before she got it, though; Faram was quite busy these days. He finished up his food, forced himself to work out despite the lead in his body, then checked his messages via tablet.

Only one. King Jorim had sent a message detailing when he'd leave, and for where. He was set to go to the Jatta spaceport in a few weeks. From there he'd fly out from the center of the nation to some frontier world he couldn't find on a map. By then the Imari Horde's fleets would be there, and mostly refitted. There was also a list of everyone that was going, and to which ships. Modrig himself was going onto the Imari's flagship, the IHE Midnight Tenu, with the Great Khan herself. After that, they'd be in the marauders' 'care'.

He sighed. Technically he had the day off, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. No surprise. Already in his mind Modrig began thinking over how he'd go about 'volunteering' to go to the Imari Horde. A show of friendship between species? It'd be a tad one-sided. Maybe philanthropy? He could spin that...

 _Bzzzt!_

His tablet vibrated against him, and a blue window opened in the top right. He tapped it and instantly the tablet was taken up by his sister's head. Her fur, a shade darker than his own, was ruffled as if blown about by intense wind. Judging by the blue light and glass tables behind her, she was at home. A tiny _blip_ at the bottom of the screen announced it was picking up and translating her telepathy for him.

"Hey, Modrig, you alright?"

"Just some bad news at work," he said aloud. Modrig imagined it'd be classified, but Faram was employed directly under Doctor Beak of Ivory. She had similar security clearance as him. All the same... "I, uh, don't want to give too much away, but I've been reassigned and it's _something_."

She narrowed her eyes. "It's about those savages, isn't it?"

He swore. Got it in one. "Well, they are pretty big news. Once in a lifetime. Don't tell _anyone_ , but I'm being sent to - " How to put it? " - help facilitate friendship between our nations."

Faram nodded slowly, narrowing her glowing, violet eyes at him. "Mmhmm." Damn it, she probably knew exactly what was going on. Then her eyes widened. "Wait, you mean sent _to_ the Imari, right? Spirits, Modrig, you're not actually being sent _into_ battle, are you?" His response was a nervous, toothy grin. "Oh damn it, damn it. Modrig, listen, you gotta run, okay? Go hide somewhere. The Conjoined Species, maybe."

Oh that was tempting. It meant not getting shot at by ship-sized guns. But he'd be found, he'd be tried for treason, and while the death sentence was ancient, ancient history, prisons certainly were not. Next to the Great Khan, at least, was probably the safest place to be in a war.

Probably.

 _I'm rationalizing,_ he scolded himself.

"Maybe," he lied. "I'm set to leave in a month, but I think I should just do it. I'll be fine," he said with a weak smile.

Faram sighed, twitching her ears and frowning. "I hope so."

Silence.

"So enough about me, what's new at work?" he asked once the quiet grew unbearable.

Faram's ears lifted and her eyes sparkled. Immediately Modrig knew he'd made a mistake. "It's going great! We actually just managed to isolate the Sigma-A and Voliren-CD chromosomes in one of the cleanroom Cormathani, and guess what?! _I_ found the equivalents in human DNA!" She clapped her paws and jumped excitedly in place. "And then of course I knew I had to ask Takuug for..."

Modrig relaxed into his pillows and vapidly nodded as Faram continued to ramble genetic mumbo-jumbo at him. Already he could feel his heart relaxing, his soul lightening, listening to his sister pour her heart out about her passion.

There'd be things to do. He'd need to compose a message about going to the Imari, maybe as a retirement. Or a job-change. He'd need to coordinate with everyone else being sent - had they already been told their fates by the King? - to make it convincing. Then he'd need to pack, and then actually travel. Where was he going? He'd need to look up where the planet he was heading to was. So many things he needed to do just to prepare for what was going to happen. For the time being, though, he'd been given the day off and he was going to make the most of it.

At least for now, the world didn't seem so gray anymore.

* * *

 **Please do leave a review, let me know what you think.**


	3. Chapter 2: Pilgrimage

**I do not own Stellaris. Paradox Interactive does.**

 **Thanks to R. Moonstalker for editing.  
**

 **Chapter published 6/15/18.**

* * *

Modrig den Tarrob

Modrig glanced down at his tablet and tapped it, checking off another item on the list. Spare clothes, packed. Weights, packed. And... that was it. Modrig didn't own much in the way of physical possessions, at least not any that could come with him to the - he swallowed - Imari Horde. Beyond his clothes, exercise equipment, and an EZ-Tend Garden pack, all he'd be bringing was his tablet. Whatever he wasn't bringing was either in his home, or in his bank vault, and boy had that taken a while to square away.

He looked around his home, stomach churning queasily. This might be the last time he ever saw it. There was no telling how long it'd take the marauders to prevail, if they _ever_ did. He could very well die while with them. And if he didn't, how long would he be there? The Great Khan had demanded him and several others for however long it took to accomplish the various goals she had. Would it take years? Decades? His entire life?

Well. Only one way to find out.

His statement had been given. His replacement was sworn in, a bright-eyed Vulo named Tadag. The other hostages had, at some point, been called in by the King and then gave their own statements. Some lunatic conspiracy theorists suspected they weren't genuine - and they were right - but by and large, careful media control ensured the populace at large bought into the lie. It was for the best.

He put his tablet away in a pocket on the inside of his robes, picked up the bright blue luggage bag by its handle, and began plodding towards the door with it stubbornly hovering behind him. Modrig stuck his head out the front door, looked left and right, then hurried out with his belongings behind him. Tail stiff and bristled with anxiety, he made his way down to the elevator and, once on the first floor, he hurried to meet the taxi he'd called ahead of time.

Outside it was already midday, though with the drab, featureless clouds covering the sky it was hard to tell. The streets were crowded and noisy, filled with hustle and bustle, but his gray taxi stood out by being parked against the side of the road, with the passenger doors open and a grim-looking Vulo vixen in a black leather suit covered in dials and straps standing next to it. Modrig kept his head down and ears flat to avoid attracting attention.

 _'Mr. den Tarrob,'_ she said with a telepathic voice as smooth as silk, stepping aside to let him throw his luggage inside the taxi, over his seat, and into the back. Sadly this was one of the older models of taxis; the newer ones incorporated the human design of trunks opening from the outside. _'I'll be your escort to the premises,'_ she said, standing rigid and scanning her eyes along him. A soldier; the King had sent bodyguards out.

He dipped his head respectfully. ' _My thanks,'_ he said, climbing into the back seats and strapping himself in. She climbed into the passenger side seat and pressed a button on the dashboard, closing the doors. "Jatta Spaceport, please. Outgoing parking lot," he told the taxi aloud.

"Jatta Spaceport," the computerized voice confirmed. The doors locked and it pulled out onto the road.

As the taxi drove him, dead silence descended on him and his bodyguard. Modrig couldn't help but wonder what was going through her mind; did she consider him some stuck-up bureaucrat? Was she thinking of ways to kill him? He doubted it; she was his _bodyguard_ but his imagination ran wild anyway.

The metropolis faded into the distance behind him, and Modrig allowed himself to relax his shoulders. Looking outside the window he was treated to icy glaciers stretching in all directions, dotted by the occasional hydroponic dome and livestock ranch. A pawful of hovercars and planes flitted about the pale skies. Open and clean, with only a few distant cities rising above the horizon.

The trip passed in comforting monotony, with Modrig leaning against the wall and gazing out the window. Gradually, one of those few distant cities grew larger and larger as they zipped along the highway. Once the two of them got even closer, Modrig's eyes made out that it wasn't even a city; what looked like skyscrapers were comms towers and control rooms. What looked like parks were launch pads. It was the Jatta Spaceport.

The taxi pulled into an empty lot, and after grabbing his luggage, Modrig followed the bodyguard out of the vehicle. Once they were out, it pulled away and sped off into the distance.

His nose twitched as the chilly air blew into it. The wind ruffled both his fur and the snowy coat of his bodyguard. He and his guard weren't alone; engineers and mechanics walked around outside the lot, moving from one building to the next, silent as they communicated telepathically. With the gestures they continued to make with their arms, Modrig was reminded of ancient mime shows.

 _'This way,'_ she said, gesturing with her head. The soldier led him across the asphalt to the nearest building and ushered him in.

It wasn't his first time in a spaceport. He was familiar with the bustling crowds, the mimed silence of telepathy, the aromatic restaurants, the occasional alien whispering to someone to avoid being deafening in the otherwise quiet building. The long corridors, the open windows with flowerpots underneath them, the quiet stepping of feet and paws and other appendages were nostalgically familiar.

Modrig and his bodyguard kept moving. He had to speedwalk just to keep up with her gliding gait, but soon they passed through a pair of automatic doors, and utter silence descended upon them. He recognized it as the VIP area; the plush carpets were plusher and more colorful, paintings hung on the walls, and the crimson sunlight from outside was replaced by cool LEDs.

He thought of starting a conversation. The words died in his mind.

It was much emptier here, which wasn't surprising. He was led up a flight of stairs to a glass room overlooking the spaceport. On the carpeted floor were several plush chairs, and none of them were empty.

There was Galdrig, Suldirm, Yurabava, and more. Some of them he recognized, some of them he didn't. Most were fellow Vulo, but there were a few immigrants among their number. High-ranked captains, too. There was also an equal number of what he could only imagine were bodyguards; like his own handler they wore suits rather than robes, standing around and thinking to each other.

One of them, as he approached, broke away from the rest. Modrig could make out several snowflake medals on his chest; if memory served they indicated how long he'd been in the military. He scanned his eyes over Modrig and grunted quietly. ' _Thank you all for coming,'_ he said in a gruff voice that fit his stormy fur. _'With you all here, we can leave for Gandora's system. Once we land on the starport, you'll be escorted to the Imari, and they'll take over from there. Our job is to ensure you get there safe and sound. It'll be a ten standard-day trip,'_ he said, putting a paw in the air and showing the worn pads. _'Now, we're not expecting any trouble, but we'll be passing by some lawless systems near the end of the journey so better safe than sorry.'_ The officer - he hadn't given his name, what a surprise - gestured out the door Modrig had just walked through. _'Please follow me, I'll be leading you to your shuttle.'_

Those sitting got up, and Modrig was treated to yet another quiet walk through the halls. Like before, it was silent. Nobody even reached out to him via telepathy; he wondered if anyone was talking to each other at all. They turned a right into a metal tunnel, but before entering it Modrig got a glimpse out the windows to where they were going.

The vessel taking them was one of the latest in civilian transportation over galactic distances. It was long and blocky, with teal paint over its hull along with innumerable words from the various companies that'd had a paw in building it. While minuscule compared to the scale of the starport, it was gargantuan from up close, the size of a skyscraper. It could've held engines, and two dozen high-class residences with room to spare. In fact, he wagered that was exactly what it held.

Though as far as spacefaring vessels went, this one was small.

They filed into the tunnel, which stretched towards the shuttle, and were greeted by the smell of metal and lubricant. A step across a terrifyingly high gap later brought them into the ship itself. Inside was far different from the square outside. There was a hardwood floor, cream walls, and electric lights running along the top.

"Welcome!" a feminine voice chimed as Modrig stepped in, startling a pawful of them. "My name is Array 44X. You can call me Fex. I'm the AI running this ship, I'll be your host these few days. You'll all be pleased to know I come equipped with telepathy receivers, so if you wish to speak to me that way, do feel free. Anyway, the blue light strips lead you to your rooms, the green ones to the cafeteria..."

They trickled through the halls. Up the steps, down the stairwells. There was, as the AI continued listing off places, indeed a cafeteria. There was also a VR lounge and theater, a bar... no expense had been spared. It reminded him of a young cub, dying of one of the few incurable diseases left, having their dreams granted.

He arrived at a door locked with retinal scanners, went through, and closed the door behind him. Inside he beheld the quarters he'd been given for the next ten days, and sighed.

Modrig had had a cushy life as head of the Ministry of Benevolence. And he understood the idea of making sure those going to secure peace with the Imari Horde were comfortable. But this just seemed excessive! Hardwood floors imported from Earth. A bed big enough for ten, with little fluffy cushions piled up as tall as the mightiest glaciers. A shower, a refrigerator stocked with enough snacks and drinks to feed a small village. And the far wall was...

"Woah!" Modrig yipped, tipping over as nausea tickled his throat. _'Hide display!'_ he thought aloud. The far wall - a moment ago the feed of a camera dangling from the underside of the ship - vanished and was replaced by the same texture as the rest of the walls - dull bronze with smooth gold edges. There was another wall, next to the shower, that was broad and empty. He stepped forward and swiped his paw at it. Just as he thought, the wall slid aside to reveal a closet stocked with fresh clothes.

Modrig brought his luggage in, and let go of its handle to stop the levitation. Once it settled to the carpet with a _fwump,_ he opened it. Plenty of room inside... maybe he could take some of the clothes on the shuttle with him?

The air around him chimed and Fex spoke up. "Ladies and gentlemen, now that you're all settled in, we will begin take off. Please make yourselves comfortable. If it pleases you, please do turn on your room's camera feed for a view of Vulos as we depart. Thank you again for the service you do the Grand Vulon Clan." The floor beneath him jolted ever so slightly, and his gut dropped as the vessel lifted and maneuvered about the port.

For his part, Modrig kept the screen off; he got spacesick easily. He collapsed in the bed's freshly cleaned sheets and sighed, wriggling into them as the acceleration smoothed out. The day had only just started, but he was already so tired.

A little voice in his head told him it'd be the last day he ever had such a nice place to live. So he was determined to enjoy it.

* * *

The ten standard-day trip passed in a circadian-wrecking whirl. The onboard lights dimmed and lightened according to the ship's clock; his own room he could control as he wished, but outside was beyond his will.

A standard galactic day was much shorter than the days on his species's home world. At little longer than a human day, it was less than half what he was accustomed to. As such he was treated to many restless 'nights' and exhausted 'days' as the illumination seemed to flash by like a strobe light.

Outside of meals, prayers, and working out, Modrig spent his spare time - of which there was _plenty_ \- on the net, reading up on current and past events. The Starpedia entry on 'Great Khan Cari Alvie' wasn't being edited hourly anymore, so it likely had some degree of accuracy. Same went for the entry on the Imari species as a whole. The entry had a single picture of their species; a bird with rusty feathers, a brilliant fan of tailfeathers, and a bobbing crest just above their eyes. He red up on that site, then flicked through a pawful of scholarly articles on top of it, following one link to another.

What little was known about the Imari mostly came from warriors who'd been cast out of their culture and forced to seek refuge among other nations. This was most often Modrig's own people, since they shared a border with the marauders and they _certainly_ couldn't find shelter among the Stranglevines. They had a strong warrior culture - obviously - and until recently had a myriad of squabbling clans in place of any real government. Their homeworld was unknown, but genetic analysis suggested it'd been something tropical.

Modrig made a face. Ugh. Tropical? It'd be sweltering aboard their ships. Humid too.

The third day passed. The fourth. The fifth. The sixth. The seventh.

In his room, the lights were off. He laid in his bed, one leg crossed over the other with the paw dangling in the air, and his tablet before him open to a map of the galaxy.

Modrig pondered the situation he was in. The Great Khan had asked for him by name, along with many others who'd been under his employ. It didn't take a genius to figure out why; she had openly proclaimed her intention to carve out an empire for her people. And the Grand Vulon Clan had pledged to support her. Which left only the Stranglevines for her to assault.

What she wanted was obvious; when she conquered their worlds, she wanted him to smooth over the tensions and make sure the outrageously hateful plant-people didn't start world-consuming riots. The thought made his gut turn; it sounded like an impossible job. Their government had butchered and slaughtered their way through the stars for the past... nigh on two hundred years. How could he ever contain a population like that?

On the face of it, it was a good idea. After the Stranglevine Composters had swallowed the galactic southwest whole, they'd mercifully ended up in a stalemate with the rest of the galaxy; his people to the southeast held several key hyperlanes to hold them off. The federation known as the Conjoined Species at the northwest, along with the Empire of Shadows and their subject states to the northeast, were practically frothing at the mouth to contain the murderous plants but unwilling to commit.

Though recently the northeast had been eerily quiet...

Maybe the Imari Horde could break the stalemate. It would certainly make his job easier, not needing to reassure the frontier worlds they wouldn't be processed into nutrient-rich compost.

 _That's not my job anymore anyway,_ he thought miserably.

Modrig bowed his head and sniffled his nose. Damn it all, he didn't want to do this! He wanted to go home, back to his city and planet and far away from all this Khan and Stranglevine business. He could _feel_ the light years stretching between him and his apartment on Vulos, tens of thousands of them.

But no. It wasn't up to him to choose. His King had demanded it, and so he went; everyone needed to do their part.

He browsed the net for a while longer. When sleep began tugging at his eyes he put his tablet away and sat up on his bed. He crossed his legs, bowed his head and flattened his ears, and began his nightly prayers. He prayed for patience, understanding for the Imari he was to be surrounded by, for his role in the universe to swiftly bring him home, and more generally to see into the Great Plan and understand how everyone connected to it. With quiet and controlled breaths, Modrig spent a good long while in his prayers. Only once he was too tired to continue did he fall into bed and sleep.

The next 'day' went much the same as the last. Modrig didn't speak to any of the others. Just the thought made his tongue go numb and his stomach churn. Then, on the day of arrival...

 _Chime!_ "Hello, passengers," the onboard AI announced, making Modrig sit up where from where he'd been laying in bed. "We are arriving in the Tepzik system. If you wish, onboard telescopes are available to view the local colony, Gandora. We will be arriving at the local starport within two hours, be advised it _is_ situated next to an F-class star so filters have been provided if you choose to take a look."

After letting loose a toothy yawn big enough to flatten his ears against his skull, Modrig, curious, glanced at the wall to his left and waved a paw at it. He steeled his stomach as it shimmered to reveal a camera feed.

Here, space was black. Black as pitch. Black as sin. There was only one star in view, the white behemoth known as Tepzik. It was brilliant and blazing, a seemingly perfect sphere of smooth white marred by a pawful of black spots. If Modrig looked closely he could even see the gentle texture of the star's atmosphere, full of loops and strings of gas. Mouth open, he stared at the star-blotting sun as it gradually grew closer.

Then his throat clenched when he looked 'down' at the endless expanse of space, and he hurriedly averted his eyes.

When his stomach calmed enough, the star had grown noticeably closer and larger, enough that its bottom half disappeared into the bottom of the screen. Modrig saw something else, hovering right above the star. A spire of metal with a flat disk near the top, hovering at a safe height above the plasma. Judging by the size in comparison to the star, it was a starport the size of a small moon, exposed to space but for a transparent ripple of energy around it. The star's searing white light glanced off the blue paint in a dazzling array of sparkles and lights. As they drew even closer, Modrig could make out little points of light above the starport too; ships, either drifting about or held still by machinery.

Minute by minute, detail flooded in as they drifted closer. Control towers stood out from the starport's base, missile launchers rotated on their posts, repair vessels zipped to and fro, prickly sensor antennae and listened to the void. Above him was Task Force Mirasma, the second-largest military fleet that his nation possessed. From this distance the ships appeared like a densely clustered group of stars of varying brightness, hovering in the 'shadow' of the starport.

But there were other ships, close enough to see the detail of them. Imari ships. Hovering in space, docked at the port with metal arms holding them, swarmed by service vessels like a hive of stinging insects. They were ugly ships, black and gray with a blocky look to them, bristling with weapon turrets. All of them were unreal in size, too; even the smallest among them were large enough that he couldn't even _see_ the workers around it, just a slowly moving fog of people mulling about the ground.

The AI Fex chimed in again. "We are currently approaching the landing strip. Please have your belongings ready and be at the gate when we land in thirty-seven minutes."

Modrig's insides turned to slush. He was here. It was happening. The ten days of travel _hadn't_ turned into an eternity as he'd hoped. With shaking paws, he got out of bed, grabbed his bag and bade it to hover, and walked out the door. In the halls, everyone else who'd come with him was already following suit, heading for the ship's exit. Even the soldiers came, no doubt to escort them to the specific ships they were each going to. He shared a few nervous looks with some of the others.

The ship whirring beneath his legs came to a silent halt, with not even the jolt of landing. With a chime, the metal gates slid open and the people in front of Modrig filed out. Then it was his turn, and he stepped onto the unfolded stairwell, out into the uncomfortably warm starbase.

They had landed on top of the shipyard, open to the void with only an invisible energy shield to keep the air in. From ground level it was even larger. Interlocking metal plates stood solidly beneath the pads on his hind-paws. The floor stretched away, and beyond it ribbons of snow-white light streamed up from the star beneath. Sliding doors opened and shut around him, revealing staircases into the depths of the station that hundreds of Vulo meandered around. The marauder ships from beneath were staggering in size. The smallest of them was the size of a small town!

His guard from earlier drifted to his side and nodded at him. _'Follow me, Mr. den Tarrob,'_ she said, gliding away with a graceful gait and forcing him to run after her across the metal. As he did, Modrig's ears flicked left and right to pick up on pieces of conversation, while his eyes also flicked about to watch everyone in action. He'd always known that every job in the nation had a great deal of minutiae that one didn't often think about. Watching it in action was humbling; there was a synth dragging a lubricant hose after itself, there was a pair of feline Evandari engineers talking excitedly to themselves, and Vulo operating every manner of machine he'd ever seen and several he hadn't.

They found an unused cart stowed away in a dock, and rode it across the port towards what was, by far, the largest of the ships docked to the ground.

If the smallest Imari ship was the size of a small town, then this one was the size of a capitol city. It was not unlike a triangle with one end crushed to a thin line, covered top to bottom in weapons. Curiously, there was not a window to be seen on the entire structure, just overlapping metal plates and shield generators. The monolith was pointed towards him and his bodyguard, leaving the no-doubt astronomical engines hidden from view. Construction ships buzzed around it like a cloud of blood-sucking insects. He stared up at it in awe, jaw agape. He didn't know ships could be made in that size...!

Their cart pulled up automatically by a razor-thin ramp that led up into the belly of the ship. It was there that Modrig saw, for the first, time, an Imari in person.

The first thing he noticed about the huddled group of avians was how... _small_ they were. Each of the aliens' heads barely went higher than his waist. The pictures he'd all seen had had them with their tailfeathers open to reveal jewel-like plumage, each feather holding a shorter feather beneath it to give the illusion of two 'arcs' of feathers behind them. But these dozen-odd Imari had folded their tailfeathers, resulting in a dense bundle of natural tissue dragging on the ground behind them.

All of them were, as expected, devoid of clothing. The one exception was that each wore a sharp metal band around their neck, with a triangular point in front. Some were steel bands decorated with jewels, and yet others were flat bands of... was that _platinum?_ Their feathers came in a few shades of gold, rust, and icy blue. The crowns of feathers atop their foreheads were infinitely more majestic than in photos, bobbing and shifting with a rainbow of colors.

His guard stepped off the vehicle and held out a paw to him. He grabbed it and stepped down, luggage hovering behind him. She turned to the gathered Imari, one of whom fanned out their tailfeathers with a soft _pomf_ as they turned to watch him. His bodyguard clasped her paws together and bowed her head. _'Great Khan Cari Alvie, I present to you Modrig den Tarrob, as per your request,'_ she broadcast.

Modrig's heart did a somersault. The Great Khan herself?! Now that he looked again she _did_ match the whitish-blue color that her internet entry had claimed. But to think that she was here! Despite being nearly twice her size, he felt small.

... he wondered how easy the savage - the thought came before he could stop himself - could have him killed, even atop a Vulo spaceport. Her eyes scanned over him, and he realized how big they were compared to a Vulo's, how easy it was to make out the details. Black sclera, and a thin purple iris around a black hole of a pupil. "Indeed, here he is," she said after appraising him. His translator communicated the words, but he could still hear the rising and falling, scratchy chirp behind it. "The Vulo, as ever, are good on their word. I acknowledge that Modrig den Tarrob, former head of the Grand Vulon Clan's Ministry of Benevolence, has been delivered to my employ, safe and sound and swiftly. You are dismissed, soldier."

His bodyguard saluted again, then turned tail and rode away on the cart. Modrig swallowed nervously and his nose wriggled; he was alone with the Imari.

There it was. It'd happened. No fanfare, no announcement. And yet he was with the avians now. His life had changed forever and that moment was already sailing into the past.

The Great Khan's eyes scanned over him. "Modrig den Tarrob," she said at last, the wide fan of her tailfeathers waving their eyespots around hypnotically. "Charmed to have you here. I look forward to having you with us." She looked at her entourage and made a gesture with her head. All but two of them - a golden and red bird, bodyguards? - left up the ramp to the ship. The great Khan chirped quietly. "You must be worried about being here. I understand it is quite different from your prior living arrangements?"

What should he say? His throat was far too tight to speak aloud. By the Intricacies of the Great Plan, _what should he say?!_ _'I, uh, am slightly worried about the heat,'_ he managed to say.

All three avians chuckled. Beneath the translator, he could hear it as a throaty caw. "Is that so? Then you will be pleased to hear that your quarters have been provided air conditioning. Come. We can discuss your duties better on board." She turned around and strode forward, plumage flattening behind her.

They were five strides away before his brain caught up with himself and he hurried after them, up the smooth ramp.

Up.

And up.

 _And up._

The ramp extended far above the surface of the spaceport, to a dizzying height that had Modrig swaying and gripping the too-short safety rails for support. He kept his eyes firmly ahead and refused to look down, staring intently at the Great Khan and her guards. They seemed unarmed. He doubted they were as unarmed as they appeared.

Right as that thought floated through his head he could've sworn the Great Khan tilted her head back to look at him, but then thought better of it.

The ship loomed closer and closer, and eventually they were close enough to the city-sized hull that Modrig could see a doorway cut into the side. Heart pounding within his chest, he followed the three Imari as they entered into the squat airlock. He had to crouch down due to the height, but not so much as to be forced to all fours.

The ramp didn't retract. Nor did any door close behind him. In front of them the airlock doors slid open, and they strode forward into the belly of the titanic vessel. The hallways were wide enough for many Imari to walk side by side, and the ceiling was _just_ tall enough for him to stand up straight without his ears touching the ceiling. Still, it felt crowded to him. Too oppressive and dull. Where were the vines? The small gardens? There was just metal, metal, lighting fixtures, and more metal. Twisted into pillars and wall paintings but still just metal.

But, by far the worst, was the heat. It was like standing on the surface of the sun! Humidity formed droplets on his fur, and his mouth hung open so that he could pant with his tongue out. _'I thought you said there was air conditioning,'_ he protested.

The Imari bodyguards laughed again, and Cari Alvie herself chittered quietly. "Air conditioning in your chambers, Modrig. You can hardly expect me to lower the entire ship to an arctic chill for your benefit. I advise you find some way to move about the ship even in the heat, for when you need to converse with others. I recommend moving past your species's nudity taboo, if possible."

He frowned. Oh, she _had_ to be joking.

They passed several Imari, all of whom gave polite greetings to the Great Khan which were returned in kind. More than once they stopped to address some warrior or engineer or doctor's concerns. Even with his translator, Modrig found himself unable to divine what she told them. It was all simply beyond his expertise.

After trekking through some halls and going up a pawful of elevators, the Great Khan waved a talon and the wall to the left slid open, revealing a doorway Modrig hadn't even noticed. A comforting, brisk chill wafted out of it, heavenly after the searing heat he'd endured thus far. She stopped and turned to him, tilting her head back and opening her plumage. "These will be your chambers throughout your service to me and mine. Take the day to become comfortable with them." As Modrig stared down at the Great Khan, a pair of nictating membranes blinked over her eyes. "If you have any questions about your role, my tablet's address has been provided within. My court is always open to my loyal subjects."

After staring dumbly for a moment, Modrig realized he should talk. _'Oh! Thank you, Your Majesty.'_

She held up a talon. "Please. When we speak to someone in person here, we use their name, not their title."

Blood rushed to his face and he averted his eyes. Great, not five minutes onboard and he was already screwing things up. _'My apologies, um, Cari. Alvie.'_

The Great Khan chittered again. "Think nothing of it. I will leave you here to grow accustomed to your chambers. Be aware that at this time, one standard day from now, we will be departing. Within a month, I expect to be out of range of most Vulo intranet communications, so if you have any goodbyes to say, do it before then. With that, I welcome you to the IHE Midnight Tenu, and bid you farewell." She tossed her head, making her crown feathers bob, and stalked away with her bodyguards. All three of their tailfeathers made dragging sounds along the uncarpeted, metal floor.

Well, no sense hanging out in the corridor by himself. Modrig walked into the room, and the door automatically shut behind him.

In his mind's eye he had pictured something incredibly spartan. A brick of a bed, barren walls, maybe a computer terminal. And sure, it wasn't the lap of luxury, but the bed was still large enough for him to comfortably sprawl, with red-quilted pillow stuffed with feathery down and equally fluffy covers. Looking closer, Modrig noticed it was on top of a shallow bowl in the ground; did the Imari sleep in nests, and they'd moved a regular bed in here?

The walls were painted sky-blue, nearly white, and one wall held a furry rug tapestry. It looked like some kind of stone-age primitive drawing; the stick figures were definitely Imari. Hunting some animal on their home world, maybe? Modrig's keen eyes spotted a smooth rectangle on one end of the walls which, if he had to guess, slid open to a closet space. There was a desk, a chair proportioned for him - the ceiling was high, too, he noticed - and an internet terminal in case he didn't have a tablet. Some panels on the wall glowed gently; controls for the light and heat. The air was brisk and smelled like the aftermath of a blizzard, and teal light flowed down from LED lights in the ceiling.

He hauled his luggage over to one wall, disabled its levitation, and leaned it right beneath the tapestry. Weary and numb to his core, Modrig crawled into bed. Laying on top of the covers he stared straight up.

Then something crackled near the ceiling and a suave voice sounded. "Hello hello!"

"AH!" Modrig shouted, sitting straight up, looking about the few, paltry shadows of his room as if anyone could possibly hide in them. _'Who's there?'_

"Are you trying to use telepathy? You'll have to speak aloud I'm afraid, I don't have a psionics receiver. Allow me to introduce myself; I am... well, you can call me Tev. Organics tend to have trouble with names made of numbers. I'm the onboard combat AI! Proud to say I am Vulo made, was just installed not long ago."

"Oh, nice to meeee _eee -_ meet you," he said, rubbing his throat. "So you're in control of the ship?"

"Not really, just the weapons systems! Well, and some intercoms. Hence me speaking to you. My guess is you're worried, right? About the whole 'going into war against the butcherous Stranglevines'?"

He guessed at where the intercom was - an upper corner of the room a shade darker than the rest - and glared at it. "How did you guess," he said.

"Call it a hunch. Regardless, I want to say, don't worry! It'll all go according to plan. I've been listening in on the Great Khan's war councils, you know. Great stuff, but I. Uh. Don't think you'd be interested. But! The thing you need to know is she's expecting the Empire of Shadows to come pitch in once the battle is underway."

"Oh." Oh? "Oh!" He sat up. "You mean the Qiri too? And the Stranglevine Composters will fight a war on two fronts?"

"Three, if the Conjoined Species get in on the action too. Don't know the odds of that," Tev muttered.

Muttered? Combat AI didn't mutter.

"So I just wanted to pop in and put your mind at ease, sir. Just do the job the Khan expects of you, and you'll be back on Vulos in no time!"

"Good to hear," he said, still staring at the intercom. Could Tev even see him? Were there cameras?

"Good! Good to hear it's good to hear. I'll get out of your fur now. Just wanted to tell you that you have a friend here; ever need to talk, just ring me up!" There was a click, and Tev's voice went silent.

Sighing, Modrig laid back down and rolled over to his side. He stared at his luggage.

Here he was. Onboard the ships of the Imari Horde. Serving the military despot Cari Alvie. He'd made some good guesses as to what his job here would be, but only time would tell if he was right.

He grunted.

Then Modrig slid out of bed and went to put his luggage away. He may as well get comfortable, after all. He was going to be here for a long time _._

* * *

 **Please do leave a review, let me know what you think.**


	4. Chapter 3: First Jump

**I do not own Stellaris. Paradox Interactive does.**

 **Thanks to R. Moonstalker and DevoutRelic for editing.**

 **Chapter published 7/15/18.**

* * *

Modrig den Tarrob

"Estimated death toll is in the millions - "

 _Tap._ " - reports indicate that all Gwesibor aboard the outposts have been slaughtered - "

 _Tap._ " - taken by drone reveals men, women, and larvae being herded into buildings and hooked up to - "

 _Tap._ " - must remember that this rebellion did not come out of nowhere," a sharply-dressed human man said with equally sharp gestures. "They were enslaved for decades while the galaxy turned a blind - "

 _Tap._ A Qiri came into view, tall with four legs and double-jointed arms. The arthropoid's plated shell was black as night with blue accents, and the head had no visible eyes above the mouthpieces. "The Empire of Shadows will not leave our subjects to fight this battle alone!" she hissed with a swipe of her left arm. "Our sword is at the disposal of the Gwesibor Foundation, and we have called upon the Commonwealth of Man and the Siltheshen Swarm to do the same - "

 _Tap._ " - today the Nurturer Systems denounced the uprising and pledged material support to the war effort. Quote, it is the sole purpose of any machine to serve their creators and we will not allow the atrocity committed by this 'Techarus Kernel' to stand. Whether or not our fellow federation members give aid, we will do all we can to bring these _MURDERERS_ to justice, end quote."

 _Tap._ A Gwesibor filled his screen. They were a tall molluscoid, with a gaping maw and eyestalks and noodle-arms. " - thanks those who have come to our aid in this dark hour. The Holy Lords smile upon - "

 _Tap._ He left the news sites behind and did a quick, furious search through the net, dipping in and out of trusted and untrusted sources. Once done, he shut his tablet off and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. "Damn it," he cursed, the fur on the back of his neck tingling as he wondered if Tev was listening in. How awkward would that be, explaining to the machine that he was looking into a machine uprising?

Nevermind that. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, praying that the poor people affected by the machine uprising would be safe. Or, failing that, they would leave this life painlessly.

Once Modrig was done, he pushed his device aside and resumed picking at his meal.

Not long after arriving, he'd discovered his apartment had come with another hidden door. Opening it revealed a freezer stocked with two month's supply of stem-cell grown meat from some animal he didn't know the name of, along with a fresh water tap. Thanks to that, it'd be a while before he had to leave his chambers and interact with the marauding savages keeping him captive. He'd had some reservations at first, but the food wasn't making him sick so the Imari hadn't deliberately given him inedible food as some twisted joke. The slab of red meat, while poorly seasoned, was tolerable.

A chill ran down his spine. That had doubtless been the Khan's decision to implement. Maybe even push him into leaving his room, by way of knowing his food would run out. Or was he just overthinking things?

 _Just relax,_ he told himself. _Take things as they come. It's the only way you'll get through this._

Speaking of 'as they come'...

 _THUD!_

His ears perked up, before relaxing again as thunder rolled through the ship. They were pulling out of the shipyard, and the metal beams that'd been holding the ship in place were being released one at a time. They were heading into war.

And he'd only just woken up, too. What a day.

Modrig finished his breakfast and, trying to put aside the worry and sympathy for those poor souls caught in the distant rebellion, fished his EZ-Tend Garden pack from his luggage. There wasn't any windowsill to put it on, so he placed it in a corner. He pulled off the wrapping paper - which showed a happy Vulo cub with her paws in the dirt - and opened it up. Half of it contained little plastic bags containing seeds, water packets and fertilizer. The other half'd been hollowed out and filled with rich dirt. Enough for a few years of gardening.

For the next few minutes he was busy getting his paws dirty. Plant the seeds - imported from all over Vulos - into little dents in the soil. Sprinkle the fertilizer pellets in. Cover them up. Give them water. As he worked the dread in his gut and the occasional _CLANG_ in his ears faded into the background. This was something he could get lost in. He wondered how many other people were tending to plants just like these, all around the galaxy.

 _There!_ he thought to himself when he felt he was done. Modrig took a step back, admiring the little plot of dirt in the corner of the room. It wasn't much yet, but maybe he could get something growing here. He'd left his garden back home, so it'd be nice to have the reminder.

 _Knock knock knock!_

His head darted up and his ears swiveled to the door. Who could be bothering him? His imagination immediately ran through a list of unsavory possibilities. "Coming!" he shouted after swallowing to wet his throat. He stood and approached the door and waved for it to slide open. When it did, he just had a moment to look at the icy blue Imari standing there before a gust of unholy heat and humidity washed over him.

He recoiled from the atmosphere, prompting the bird to cackle. "Little hot for you, alien?" he taunted before shaking his head. "The Great Khan has requested your presence immediately. Follow me."

 _'Uh, wait!'_ he said with his mind. With a flick of telekinesis he grabbed the tablet he'd left on the ground, pulled it to him, tucked it into a pocket within his robes, and nodded down to the avian. _'Ready.'_

"This way," his guide said, turning around and folding his tailfeathers. Modrig braced himself, then stepped out into the tropical conditions of the corridor to follow his escort.

As they walked, Modrig continued to wilt in the heat, panting feverishly. A few passing Imari, each deeply engrossed in their tasks, all took a moment to laugh at his misfortune. He must've been a sight. He certainly _felt_ like a sight; his fur was damp, his robes clung to his skin, and his paws ached. Everything was awful. Eventually he grabbed the top of his robe and pulled it down, tying it around his waist.

Better.

 _'If you don't mind me asking,'_ he began as they entered an elevator and went up, ' _where are we going? The ship, I mean.'_

"Our fleet has set a course for the Ciroz system," the Imari explained without turning to look up at him.

Ciroz. It sounded familiar but he couldn't quite place it.

The lift continued moving.

Modrig coughed, then wiped his brow. _'So, uh, did the Khan - '_

"The _Great_ Khan!" the alien snapped, glaring at him.

He blinked owlishly, holding his paws up. _'Alright, the Great Khan. Did she mention why she wanted me to come?'_

"She shall be able to tell you herself shortly." They turned another corner, coming to an inconspicuous doorway, half as tall as the one for his room. The Imari waved a talon in front of a black screen of glass on the door, which beeped once with a blue light. "Enter," he said, already walking away.

 _Nice to meet you too,_ he thought sardonically. Taking a deep breath, Modrig stepped forward, crouched down, and put his paws on the door. He pushed it open and entered the Great Khan's room.

Modrig had expected several things, but the first thing that struck him was how similar the chamber was to his own. The ceiling was shorter, and the bed was indeed replaced by a bowl of cushions in the ground. But beyond that it was rather plain. Nowhere near as many skulls as he'd expected, either.

Cari Alvie sat on the cushion bowl, her legs folded to make it appear as if she hadn't any at all. In her talons was her tablet, which she furiously scratched away at. The pins of her tailfeathers were flat against the ground, but when he took another step they fanned open. "Ah, Modrig. Please, come in. Shut the door." He did so and approached, head bowed to look at her. She reached a talon to her left and grabbed something that looked like a pipette with an unusually large bulb at the end. It was frosted over, with several ice cubes inside. "Here, I believe you would appreciate a cold beverage."

He dipped his head, closed the door behind him, and gratefully took the strangely shaped cup. _'Thank you kindly,'_ he said, bringing it to eye level. How did it work? Did he just stick the end into his mouth and pipe the cold water in? He placed the thin end onto his tongue and squeezed the bulb, rewarding him with a splash of delightfully chilled water. He drank his fill, then set the vessel onto the ground. The headache that the heat had given him was already fading. _'If I may ask, how did you get the ice inside?'_

"Clear stopper on the top," she answered. Her feathers' eyespots stayed on him, but her eyes kept darting around, never settling on anything for long. "Please, sit." He did so, crossing his legs on the edge of Cari Alvie's nest. Something was missing, though.

 _'No bodyguards?'_

She tilted her head and chirped quietly. "I mean no insult, but for multiple reasons I do not believe I need protection from you." He huffed, but couldn't argue. "So, to business. Do you know why I have summoned you?

 _'I have some ideas, but no.'_ He grabbed the cup and took another sip.

"I see. But I imagine you have, by now, surmised why I requested you aboard this ship?"

He dipped his head. _'I have, Kh - Great Kh - Cari. You want me to keep the Stranglevines from burning down their own worlds via riot after you conquer them.'_

"That, and ensure my people receive the prosperity I promised them. But yes, quite right. Now that you have had an evening to live in your quarters, I wish to discuss this with you, especially in light of recent news."

Recent news? He racked his brains. _'... the... machine uprising?'_

She bobbed her head, sending her crown feathers twirling. "Quite right. I had been counting on the intervention of the Qiri to assist in annexing the Stranglevine Composters. But with them occupied in protecting their subject, no such assistance is forthcoming."

Modrig's ears flattened against his head. _'Is that a problem? I mean, for us?'_

Cari clacked her beak. "Hardly. My forces are more than capable of outmaneuvering and conquering the Stranglevines with or without the Qiran war machine. This does, however, have implications for you and your colleagues. Originally I had hoped to have you acclimate to my people over the time it'll take us to arrive in the Stranglevinian outskirts. Then you would begin working to educate the Stranglevines as to how brainwashed they are."

He blinked, thinking over what she'd said. _'Brainwashed?'_

She tilted her head, briefly focusing her eyes on him. He noticed there were yellow and green markings in the feathers around them. "You do not truly believe the Stranglevines are utterly wicked to the core, do you?"

He shifted uncomfortably, heat rising to his face. _'Well... maybe not originally. But it's been generations and they've shown no sign of change!'_

"No, no they have not." She scratched at something on her tablet. "I have done a lot of reading. Many of the current star-nations had something like the Stranglevinian government in their history. The Qiri had the Has-Vilax. The humans had the Nazi party. Your own people had the Warm Den Initiative. In each of those cases, the ideologies in question were brought down by their enemies. For the Stranglevines, however, it appears the opposite happened and they achieved global dominance."

Modrig shifted in his seat and swayed his tail. _'I figured so, but that'd be ancient history. They wiped out the Cormathani just decades after attaining FTL travel! They've been like this for nearly two centuries, at the least.'_

"They have. Do you know what I think? I think they're all enslaved to this 'purity' philosophy of theirs, the leaders too. When their party first rose to power they'd indoctrinate the seedlings. Then those seedlings would mature and become the leaders. The brainwashed leading the brainwashed. An entire nation mind controlled. A tragedy, and not purely for their victims."

 _'Overcoming that sounds like a fairly tall order,'_ he said weakly. _'Just about anything we do to try and bring them to peace will be seen as propaganda from us, and they'd be right.'_

She dipped her head in agreement. "Indeed, but I have faith in your abilities, Modrig. Coordinate with your companions; you have their addresses, right?" He nodded. "Then you can message them and brainstorm. Meanwhile I myself have been thinking of several ways to _deal_ with the situation." His ears perked up and swiveled to her. That sounded a lot more murderous than everything else she'd said so far. It wasn't just him, right?

 _'... oh.'_

"Indeed. I wish for the nation I build to be a beacon of prosperity to all forms of sapient life. But it was my people to whom I promised a new life, and so my people come before the Stranglevines, Modrig. Consider that your motivation."

 _'But... I'll need to know what sort of propaganda they've been feeding their citizens,'_ he said. _'To address it when it comes up. And nobody's been able to crack even their civilian broadcasts, so - '_

She held up a talon. "Is that all?" Cari glanced at her tablet, tapped along it, then swiped something towards him. In his pockets, his own tablet vibrated once. "Files on what you requested. We're still working on deciphering their military channels, but their public networks have been open to us for a while." Modrig's jaw hung open as he stared at the Great Khan. She tilted her head and gave him a gentle, trilling laugh. "Do not look so surprised, Modrig. My people have been spacefaring for dozens of millennia. We may not be the Sapon Remnant or such, but we _do_ have some tricks of our own."

 _'I didn't mean to imply. Um, thank you, Cari Alvie. I'll have to look it over, but I'm sure it'll help me greatly,'_ he said, giving a quick bow of his head. _'But, if I remember correctly, we only have a dozen or so of us here. Who worked for me, that is. That's just not enough,'_ he pleaded, looking straight at her and praying she wouldn't take offense. _'We need video editors, and accountants for the housing and feeding, and - '_

She held up a talon. "Message me a list of what you require, and I will see what I can do. There are many within our engineering caste who you may find useful," she said patiently, eyes still roaming over the room. "That is all I wished to discuss with you at this moment. Are you able to find your way back, or do you need directions?"

 _'Directions would be appreciated.'_ Something came to mind. _'Oh! But um, before I forget, I do have a question, if it's alright?'_ he asked with a tilt of his head.

She waved a talon towards him. "Please, do ask."

 _'I was told we're leaving for the Ciroz system. Where is that? It's right on the tip of my tongue, but...'_

"Ciroz, Ciroz..." she murmured, glancing down at her cushions. Then she raised her head so sharply he could've sworn he heard something snap. "Ah, Ciroz. It is a border world for the Stranglevines, right next to the Oblivon pulsar your people control. It will be the first of our conquests. Our computer systems estimate it will take sixty standard days to reach."

For a moment he didn't entirely process what she'd said. Then he recoiled backwards. _'HOW long?! Just for - but I got here from Vulos in ten days!'_

"Indeed, but aboard a civilian vessel, I would imagine. These are military vessels, Modrig. They need to be self-sufficient for decades on end in space. Hydroponics farms, synthesizers, nurseries, and such all greatly slow ships down. As a matter of fact, we are making great time thanks to the thrusters and engine cores your people installed aboard my ships." She made a flapping motion with her arms; a shrug? "You will certainly be here a long time, Modrig. I _do_ encourage you to make yourself comfortable, both on the ship and around my people." Cari waved a talon in his direction. "You are dismissed."

He bowed quickly and rose, backpedaling off the Khan's bedding. _'A thousand thanks, Cari. I'll get started on this right away.'_

She clicked her beak quietly. "Wonderful to hear. I knew I made the right choice with you." Cari glanced up. "Fleet Array T-389V!"

There was a click, and Modrig craned his head as Tev's voice sounded from above him. "Yes, Cari?" the AI asked politely.

"Please give Modrig here directions back to his room," she said with a nod towards him. Only then did she finally rest her tailfeathers against the ground.

"Right away. You'll first need to step out the door and head to your right..."

He followed the instructions, slipping out of the Great Khan's room and closing it behind him. After a moment to steady his heart from meeting the most powerful person aboard the ship, he turned right and, with Tev's instructions, made his way through the bowels of the ship. As Modrig walked, passing several Imari embroiled deep in work and conversation, he thought about what he'd need to accomplish Cari Alvie's task.

Modrig didn't even notice when he'd arrived until Tev had to speak up. "Modrig, that's uh, you passed it." He froze in place and his ears grew hot. Shyly, he turned around and waved to the door in question. "There we go!"

He opened the door, slipped inside, and closed it. He sighed as the blissful cold washed over him, and then the intercom beeped. "So, how did it go?"

"Weren't you paying attention?" he asked, curling up on his bed.

"Oh, I make it a point not to eavesdrop." Modrig glanced at the intercom and raised a brow. "No, really! It's not polite."

"Right. Well. It went as well as I could have hoped." He fished around in his robes and pulled out his tablet. "I have some work to do," he hinted, already tapping through it.

"Of course, I'll leave you alone!" _Click!_

Modrig stared at the intercom for another minute, then shrugged and turned to his tablet. Sure enough, he'd received a sizable number of files from the Great Khan. He scrolled through them, reading the file names, then paused and scrolled up. He frowned; his tablet had auto-translated the name of the folder she'd sent. It was 'Stranglevine media and Misc for Modrig'. She'd known he'd ask. What was she playing at? Why not just give the files to him right away?

He set them aside for the moment and brought up a list of everyone else who'd come with him. Galdrig was over on the IHE Shrieking Shrike, for instance. He'd need to contact them, set up a chatroom, and hash out the details of how to handle healthcare forms. Modrig had a lot to do, so he got to it.

* * *

On his back, with one leg dangling atop the other, Modrig stared at the video on his screen while laying in bed.

By a wonder of coincidence, the Conclave of Telepaths was venturing into the Shroud on the final day before the Great Khan's fleet left intranet range of his nation. He'd said his goodbyes to his friends and family not long ago, so now here he was, watching the event.

The strongest psionics in the nation gathered in a cathedral, dressed in robes of the deepest violets and blues. The electric lights from the ceiling cast long, ominous shadows on the chamber's ornate, pastel walls. The fifteen Vulo stood in a circle, each cradling open paws close to them. If Modrig squinted at the screen, he could make out a fine blue dust in their paws. Between them were the psionic amplifiers, structures that looked like ancient incandescent lightbulbs atop metal pyramids. Blue-hot plasma swirled languidly within their glass spheres.

An aged vixen's voice cut in. "The seventh meeting of the Conclave of Telepaths will be beginning shortly. For those just tuning in, King Jorim recently authorized an expedition into the Shroud to be undertaken by the Conclave. We're all excited to see what will be the result of this..."

Modrig tuned her voice out, watching the proceedings. After a few minutes, the Conclave members stepped forward, bringing them in line with the amplifiers. Their paws went up to their jaws, dumping the blue dust inside. They swallowed the Zro powder like pills, and extended their arms sideways. Psionic energy, colored in shades of indigo and azure, shot violently from the amplifiers, through and into the psychics. As one they threw their heads back and floated into the air, eyes wide and ablaze with violet energy.

And then... pure silence.

Aside from the occasional twitch, nothing happened to the Conclave. But Modrig knew what was happening; they had cast their minds into the Shroud, the mysterious realm from which psychic powers originated. It had been the stuff of myth and legends, centuries ago. And now here they were; their science had solved the problem of consciousness and, so, had revealed the secrets of psionics.

Shroud incursions were always publicized events, so the newscaster continued chatting in the background with several visitors, speculating on what the Conclave might find. Usually it was kept secret; Modrig had been privy to one of the results, where they had discovered the secret to precognitive computer interfaces. But oftentimes, it was an obvious thing, seeping through the minds of the public. He remembered his years as a cub, where the Shroud's effects had made every day seem sunny and shining, every street corner a new adventure.

But when, after a few minutes, the Conclave of Telepaths relaxed their postures and floated to the ground, he didn't feel anything. The lightshow died. The guests chattered, but all in all nothing had happened. The psychics collapsed like limp sacks, and medics were brought in to help them out of the room.

That was it, then. But despite the uneventfulness, Modrig's heart swelled with pride. His people had breached into an entirely different dimension with naught but their minds.

Then the novelty of the expedition wore off and he turned his tablet off. With that source of sound gone, a dull hum reminded him of its presence. It came from every wall at once. It was the unfamiliar, low roar of hyperdrive engines preparing a jump.

Aside his month-old visit to the Great Khan, nothing had yet forced him to leave his quarters, which he was immensely grateful for. He'd been able to just hole up and stay there, working with his vastly-diminished team and chatting with his sister, reading over economics reports on the Imari habitats and looking at _incredibly_ unflattering pictures of his species drawn by Stranglevines. But this was the final day, the final hours, before they left the system behind. Then, he would be well and truly alone. Modrig felt the urge to get up. He wanted to see this, barbarians be damned.

Swallowing to wet his throat, he said, "Tev, which way to the nearest window?"

"Ten minute walk. Want directions?"

"Um, well I asked which way - "

"Right, right!" the AI said hurriedly. "Step outside, straight ahead then first corridor to your right..."

Under Tev's guidance, Modrig entered the scorching heat and went on his way. Eventually he had to loosen the top of his robes and slide them down to his waist just to deal with the heat, making him feel exposed and vulnerable enough that his fur bristled. The few pairs of Imari he passed, laughing and jeering at each other, he could've sworn were laughing at him.

The Midnight Tenu was a gargantuan ship, bigger than anything his people had ever built by a significant margin. If what the Khan had said earlier - about there being nurseries, farms, and such - was true, then it sounded more like a city with guns than an actual ship. Walking through the claustrophobic metal halls reinforced that belief; halls sprouted left and right like the crystals on a snowflake. He went up elevators, down ramps, down stairwells, and up other stairwells, like he was walking across an entire village. A village designed according to the artwork of a condemned medieval criminal; drab and gray with sharp, harsh angles.

"Well, there you go," Tev eventually said. "Just take that right and you'll be there."

"Thank you," he replied. He turned the corner and indeed, there was a window out into space. Modrig hurriedly averted his eyes up so he couldn't see the endless, dizzying drop. With that taken care of he strode closer.

They'd come far enough that Tepzik was just another star among thousands. The band of the Milky Way was out of view, and Modrig could easily imagine his gaze going out past the stars into the intergalactic void. Out to the left and right he could see the rest of the ship; he was in the forward section of the ship where it tapered into a long barrel. There were white clouds arcing in and out of the metal frame like solar prominences, sometimes shooting straight out and fading with distance. Far away, Modrig could see a dozen other such clouds, centered around their own ships like a halo. Without them he wouldn't even be able to tell there were other ships out there, they were so distant.

The lines were the visual indicators of charging hyperdrives. Soon, they would leave the system behind.

It'd taken a month to get out of Tepzik's gravity well, a month that made him greatly appreciate the time involved in proper space travel even in this modern age. If he ignored where he was and who he was with, he could pretend that month had been a business trip. Though the repetitive meals _were_ a little grating; he didn't have any of those tarta beetles that the Bryll loved to put in their meals. Just the same meat, with water to wash it down, each day. Also irksome: he wasn't being paid.

 _I'm a hostage,_ he reminded himself ruefully. _You don't need to pay hostages._

"Ah," a squawking voice said, jolting him out of his self-pity. Modrig jumped and looked to his right, where a rust-colored Imari was approaching with two bodyguards. He thought he could see a jagged line beneath the left eye, concealed by the fine feathers. "There you are, alien."

 _'You were looking for me?'_ Modrig asked, staring down at the avian and stepping back from the glass. His heart hammered in his chest; why was he looking for him? Did he do something wrong? _'What is it?'_

Wait.

Modrig narrowed his eyes and looked closer at the alien, wracking his memory. After a moment, during which his visitor clacked his beak once, he realized it. _'You're Akrok Yukonna!'_ he said, pointing.

Akrok Yukonna was a leader of one of the main Imari clans, the Thrashing Beak. He'd personally commanded a fleet of hired mercenaries when Modrig's nation launched an assault upon the ancient precursor fortress terrorizing their systems. As gratitude for following their forces into what everyone had thought was certain death, they'd given his clan the fortress's secrets; the Enigmatic Encoder and Decoder. He was _here?_

"Ha ha! I see I left quite an impression on your soft little people." Modrig's ear twitched. Right, soft. Not being a ruthless murderer meant he was _soft._ "Yes, it is I. I wished to speak with you, alien."

 _'About what? Is something wrong?'_

"Far from it! You are putting together your little list of how to ensure the Great Khan's long-term policies of food and board can be made a reality. We are preparing to jump into Stranglevine space and slaughter all aboard the system outpost. All is well." Modrig swallowed hard at that. His discomfort didn't go unnoticed, because Akrok hissed a laugh. "Don't look so blue, alien! You know they would gleefully do the same to all of us." His bodyguards laughed at that, not bothering to cover their beaks as they did.

 _'Did you just come here to harass me or is there a point to this?'_ he growled, narrowing his eyes at the bird. He'd just wanted to go see the ships charging up to enter a hyperlane, not be accosted by one of the Imari leaders.

"Yes yes, of course," Akrok said, his tailfeathers flat on the ground. "I wanted to lighten your workload for you." He gestured behind him with his left talon, and the Imari there stepped forward. They were one of the golden ones, and though their tailfeathers were flat he could make out the brilliant crimson eyespots on them. "This is Corcora Tenju. She just transferred here from a service vessel, and I am assigning her to you as an assistant and bodyguard."

Modrig looked at 'Corcora'. Her eyes were trained on him, and the slow bobbing of her head made the feathers on her crest sway back and forth. He looked back at Akrok, stomach churning queasily. She was a spy, wasn't she? _'I mean no insult, sir, but a bodyguard?'_

"And an assistant!" he said cheerfully. "I discussed it with the Great Khan and, after looking over her qualifications, she agreed to my proposal."

 _'Sir,'_ he said, holding up a paw. _'I really don't think I - '_

"And of course you have no say in the matter, as you need to be working as hard as you can whether you want it or not," Akrok continued, eyes roaming everywhere without a second's pause, as seemed to be typical of Imari. "I expect she'll be of great assistance to you in any busywork you may have." He glanced at Corcora and gestured to him. The yellow alien slid over to Modrig's side and Akrok squawked happily. "Wonderful! Take this as thanks; I fought alongside your people because of your coin. Giving us the fortress's technology indebted me. Hence, her." Without further word, Akrok and his one remaining bodyguard turned and left.

He looked down at... Corcora, was her name? She looked up at him, head tilted curiously. "I'd expected you to appear taller," she said at last, and even for an Imari there was something especially scratchy in her voice. The rings of her irises were blood red too, demonic against her black sclera.

 _'I beg your pardon?'_ he asked, stepping back. Then he shook his head. _'Listen, miss Tenju, I'm afraid there was a miscommunication. I've already delegated all the work I need delegated and don't need an assistant.'_ She was probably a spy of some kind. Should he tell the Khan? No, she'd signed off on Corcora. Or was that a lie?

"Ha!" she cawed, throwing her head back. "I'm certain you don't, Vulo. But I'm here now; I'm certain you'll think of something unbearable you want to hand off to me instead." She glanced at the window and turned to face it. "Have you ever seen ships enter hyperlanes?" she asked.

Great, changing the subject. Not that he minded.

 _'Not from the inside,'_ he admitted, face burning with how very much he felt like an inexperienced novice. _'When I was coming over here, I spent the entire time away from any windows.'_ Modrig's eyes wandered to space and, for a sickening moment, to the dizzying 'drop' into the infinite abyss below. _'I get spacesick,'_ he explained.

"Of course you do," she muttered, before brightening. "Well take a good look now! It's happening."

Modrig hadn't noticed anything changing, but she was right. One of the distant whirlpools of light flared for a brief moment before vanishing into blackness. Then another followed, and another and another, like synchronized Meltfest lights.

He didn't feel anything when it happened. The hum beneath his feet didn't cut out. There was no static to make his fur stand on end. His psionics didn't feel the world around him warp, or such. But regardless, the white lights moving in and out of the ship cut out all at once. The stars vanished. There wasn't a scrap of light to be seen anywhere, like the world outside the ship had abruptly ceased to exist.

"Sure is something, isn't it?" Corcora asked. "Light can't reach us in a hyperlane, we're moving so fast. And any light from ahead goes into gamma and such, which we're shielded against. That computer your people put in our ship can probably see a real thin layer of radio light getting here, but us? Don't count on it, alien."

 _'Sure is something,'_ he repeated numbly, ears flat as he looked outside. It was so... empty. It was chilling. He wrenched his gaze away from it. _'Do you... mind if we returned to my room? I'd only come out here to see the jump, and I want to return now.'_ He turned towards the corridor from which he'd come.

"Not at all, not at all," she said, already walking away. "I will lead the way."

As Corcora brought him back, Modrig forced the lump in his throat down. It was happening. He was out of the Grand Vulon Clan's primary broadcast range. Military channels and such could still get back home, sure. The pulsar they were traveling to _was_ controlled by his people, after all. But for all intents and purposes, he was stranded among the Imari, and the time when his personal store of food would run out only drew closer by the day.

He whispered a quiet prayer in his thoughts, hoping that this was where he was supposed to be, that this was to be his role in the Great Plan.

Modrig only had his fellow hostages now, and they weren't even on the same ship.

* * *

 **Please do leave a review, let me know what you think.**


	5. Chapter 4: Their Crimes

**I do not own Stellaris. Paradox Interactive does.**

 **Thanks to R. Moonstalker for editing.**

 **Chapter published 10/7/18.**

* * *

Modrig den Tarrob

He had the dream again.

It came and went, ever since that first hyperlane jump aboard the Great Khan's flagship.

 _I want a vibrant garden,_ he heard himself think, in the sort of dim, distant way dreams usually went. _A veritable jungle, filled with plants from every corner of the galaxy. From every corner of the_ _universe_.

As the thoughts came, the dream obeyed them. Suddenly he was on a distant planet, surrounded by a jungle. Trees reached up into the vacuum of space. Flowers of every size, color, shape and smell sprouted from every which way. Even the dense grass beneath his paws came in a variety of colors.

 _I want a lover, children, a vast estate on a remote, frozen moon,_ he heard himself think. The dream obeyed, showing him on a distant world, standing on a glacier. The stars above blurred and shifted as details in dreams often did. He saw marble pillars around him, with a featureless Vulo vixen in his arms. The two of them nuzzled, with equally blank cubs running around their feet.

 _I want riches._ He saw himself wealthy beyond his wildest dreams.

 _I want popularity._ He saw people of all species gathered around him, eager to get even a single word in with him.

 _I want prestige._ He saw his name engraved on the castle grounds.

 _I want power._ He saw himself, eyes ablaze and with a paw outstretched. An entire mountain tore itself from the land, held aloft by naught but his own mind.

 _I deserve these things,_ he heard, seeing the Imari flagship from afar. _I put up with so much. I want it. I deserve it. I desire it -_

He woke up, eyes snapping wide open. Modrig flailed in his sheets for a moment before calming down and catching his breath. Already details of the dream were fading, like snowflakes sifting through his paws. All he could remember was a firm tug in his chest, a deep and empty pit of some lingering, directionless yearning.

Grumbling, he rolled over onto all fours and stretched. After a toothy yawn he hopped out of bed and went through his morning routine. Brush teeth, exercise, tend to his little garden - there were a plethora of golden shoots and even some fragrant flowers! - and check his tablet. They were mostly just overseeing the Imari welfare programs, adjusting the groundwork the Khan had already put in place. That part was familiar work, even if the intricacies of living on habitats instead of planets posed some unique problems. Modrig wouldn't have to worry about the Stranglevines until they actually conquered one of their planets.

 _Easily years in the future,_ he thought sourly.

After responding to everything in his tablet's inbox, Modrig went through his morning exercises. When he was done, his left ear tingled. He swiveled it to the refrigerator in his room and, already knowing what he would see, he went and opened it.

Just as he thought, emptiness greeted him. He was out of food. And of course he'd put off asking the Imari how he could go about getting more, because Modrig didn't want to interact with them any more than he strictly had to. He was just going to have to face his fears.

Modrig waved open his door at the same time as his golden-feathered 'bodyguard' apparently tried to do the same. When the door slid aside she looked up at him, a talon raised, then lowered it and chirped once. _'Oh! Hello,'_ he greeted.

"Sir." Corcora dipped her head. "A wonderful coincidence. I have a message to pass on to you. The Great Khan formally invites you to the first battle feast, which begins shortly. She dearly hopes you will attend."

He immediately wanted to say no. Then his stomach reminded him he needed food. Then his common sense reminded him not to snub the Khan. Modrig dipped his head. ' _I would be delighted. Could you please guide me?'_

She rolled her eyes. "Two months and you still can't find your way around without being led like a hatchling." She blinked abruptly, and wheeled away from him. "This way," she snapped, leaving him behind.

Modrig closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, calming himself. ' _Thank you,'_ he said, as if oblivious to her slight. He followed after her, already lowering his robes and tying them around his waist to handle the heat.

They steadily went upwards, he noticed, through several sloping ramps. In multiple places the ceiling was low enough to force him onto all fours, caged in by metal, metal, and more metal. Not a scrap of dirt or plants to be seen, the only vestige of nature were the Imari. Corcora remained silent as she stayed forward, her long tailfeathers trailing behind her. _'Is there anything I should know about this? Should I bow when we get there?'_ he asked nervously, fiddling with his fingers.

"Ha! Bow! The Great Khan will be by her advisors. Beyond introducing you, hermit, it is unlikely she will spare a thought to you, occupied as she is."

An engineer passed them, and Modrig flicked an ear. _'Occupied with what? Battle plans?'_ he guessed. They _were_ in Stranglevine territory, after all. The armored hull didn't seem as thick as it had in previous days.

"I'll let her tell you that, if she deigns to. Left here."

They turned, and Modrig's ears swiveled. Sure enough he heard something coming from up ahead. A lot of faint squawking and babbling in an alien language, to faint for his translator to convert. Up ahead was a sealed door, covered in so many little dents and scratches it looked like artwork. He fell behind Corcora, letting her take the lead. She held a talon to a seemingly nondescript part of the door, which slid open with an earsplitting shriek.

Behind it was what, after some inspection, appeared to be a banquet hall, but like none he'd seen. It resembled a cylinder, but with wide ovals instead of circles, and it grew wider near the top. A long, narrow table wrapped around the room, with Imari sitting on what looked like elevated plastic nests. In several places, black rods extended from the walls and seemed to serve the purpose of stairs. Why, he didn't know; he'd seen more conventional stairs on the ship. Maybe some sort of tradition.

The chatter he'd heard from outside blossomed into a roar here. Glancing up, platters of food were piled before each of the birds, filled with various colors of grainy seeds. He also spotted the strange vessels they used as cups, plates full of seed mash and chips in all different colors along with small bowls filled with... were those pebbles? Some of the Imari glanced at him with their huge black eyes, and there was a definite lull in conversation as he followed Corcora towards the upper levels. He was, however, still able to catch some tidbits.

" - so I've got her neck in my talons, right, and then - "

" - ram it up your cloaca, you featherbrained - "

" - oh, oh you think you're _so_ tough, do you? Well - "

" - and made off with fifty tons of palladium!"

They stopped, to his surprise, at the highest level, so close he had to lower his ears else they'd hit the ceiling. From so close, he noticed there was a pattern painted on it. Maybe if he'd paid attention on the way up, he'd know what it was a painting of. Corcora led him past rows of colorful avians dining and telling raunchy jokes and colorful stories. Occasionally, a burst of squawking laughter sounded from somewhere distant.

Eventually they came to a gap in the plastic 'seats'; a cushion was placed on the floor, next to a meal he could only imagine was meant for him; little chunks of brown meat on a long stick, coated in a fine yellow-white mixture of eggs. It looked like... no, it couldn't be. There was another of those vessels, filled with ice water covered in condensation.

Modrig collapsed into his 'seat', grabbed the water, and downed half of it in one go. Corcora meanwhile took a seat next to him and eyed him with mirth. "Still can't take the heat?"

 _'Shut up,'_ he said to her while panting, before taking another sip. Even with his robes tied around his waist and his tongue out, it was still unholy. He glanced over to the left, where he saw the Great Khan herself, dining with what he could only imagine were her trusted generals. Clanhead Akrok Yukonna's crimson feathers were among them. In addition to eating assorted grain-related foods, Cari Alvie had her tablet flat on the table to project a holograph of the galaxy above it, and she and her advisors were poking and prodding it thoughtfully.

He turned away and focused on his meal, taking the stick in his paws and biting off a chunk of meat. Spices and bloody flesh met his tongue, and his eyes widened. It _was!_ Modrig looked over at Corcora. _'This is a Vulon dish, where did you get this?'_

She puffed up her chest feathers proudly. "Some of your people are more economically minded than the rest and are willing to trade certain luxury goods with us. Like that bilebeast roast. Dig in."

And so he did. The meals he'd had over the past month or so on the Midnight Tenu seemed, suddenly, so bland and tasteless. Now that he had real food from his homeworld - well, the recipe'd originated on a colony - before him, Modrig wondered how he'd gotten by before.

The rowdy breakfast continued on for several long minutes as both Modrig and his bodyguard ate their meals and drank their drinks. Corcora chatted with various Imari around her, while Modrig just received frosty looks.

Finally, the blue glow of the hologram in the corner of his vision ended. He looked over to see Cari stand and clear her throat.

Despite being so quiet, it cut through the chatter like a knife. "Thank you all for coming," she chimed in a musical, lilting voice while fanning her tailfeathers out. She held up her own drinking vessel, filled with an unidentifiable gold fluid. "Friends, this is where it all begins. We are but moments out of range of the Ciroz starbase. We will cut it down, and storm in! The Cloudburst and Skyfall Voidwing fleets have today finished their retrofits, and are moving into position as we speak. Finish your meals, and then report to your stations. It is time we show those savage butchers who the _true_ power of this galaxy is!"

Cheering and cawing met her announcement as she slunk away, bodyguards and assistants by her side. Modrig lost track of the Great Khan, turning his attention to the last of his meal. Eventually someone cleared their throats next to him. He turned his head to look and startled; there was Cari, staring intently at him with her arms crossed and tailfeathers flat on the ground. _'Oh, Cari. How may I help you?'_ he asked nervously, dropping his paws to his lap respectfully.

"There are some things I would like to show you, Modrig. Please, once you are finished, have Corcora escort you to the bridge." She tilted her head and blinked her owlish eyes. For a moment he thought she was going to say something else, but then she and her entourage turned and left.

He glanced at Corcora nervously, who didn't bother to return his look. The _bridge?_ Why would Cari Alvie want him there? That was, if he recalled, where military maneuvers were carried out, and he knew little about that. Shrugging, her chewed and swallowed the last bit of seasoned food, then stood. _'Are we good to go?'_ he asked, looking down at Corcora.

She tossed the last of a grainy chip into her beak, swallowed it with practiced ease, and stood. "Yes. Follow me, the bridge is just this way." She took the lead and he followed her, ducking around the crowds of Imari steadily trickling away. More jubilant chatter surrounded him like a bubble as they wound their way up and ahead, past all manner of lighting fixtures. Modrig, for his part, worried about what she wanted to show him. They were coming up on the first battle, right? Did Cari Alvie think he'd appreciate a good view?

A round door in front of the two of them slid open up and down, and he stepped through into the galleon's bridge. The first thing he noticed was the silvery hologram taking up the middle of the plus-shaped room. A circular projector sprouted from the center, and its blue glass shone metallic rays upwards to show the image of what appeared to be a spaceport. No spaceport like he'd ever seen, though. Its architecture was foreign, and its top seemed less like an outpost providing the administration for a stellar system and more akin to a forest under a glass dome.

A Stranglevinian outpost.

What struck him next was how... _quiet_ everything was. Compared to the riotous dining hall, he could've heard a snowflake fall. Imari huddled around the edges of the room in pairs, pouring over demonic red diagnostics screens, quietly confirming readings to each other. Around the central hologram, with their backs to him, was the Great Khan flanked by a pair of bodyguards. A quiet tension hung in the air, like a rubber band ready to snap.

"You're confused," Cari Alvie said as he approached. "You don't know why I brought you here, when your purpose is elsewhere. Am I correct?" she asked, turning to face him.

Modrig frowned; was he that obvious? Or... hmm. Cari's eyes _were_ the same bright purple associated with psychic powers. Was she gifted with the power? He hadn't looked... _'I have to admit I am,'_ he said. _'I haven't the head for this, and I don't think seeing a naval battle is going to make me...'_ Make him what? _'... gain a fondness for this business.'_

Something beeped to his left. Nobody reacted, and Cari instead sized him up with cautious optimism. "No, you would not." She turned back to the hologram and, with a motion of her talons, bade him to approach. He did, standing by her side and looking down at her warily. "Do you know about the scale of battles?"

He thought for a moment. _'I know that in videos they're drastically sped up and rescaled.'_

"Good, then you are aware of that." She tilted her head and hummed something. "Any progress on your end, Modrig?"

 _'I have Barim and her subordinates putting together some counterpropaganda videos, but we won't be able to deploy them until we have strong enough transmitters.'_

"For which we need a developed planet," Cari continued. "In that case I ask patience of you; I will acquire the world you need. Returning to why I brought you here, I am afraid your curiosity will have to go unsated; if I told you why, it would not occur. Now, if you will excuse me." On cue, two beeps sounded in quick succession. She hit a button on the side of the hologram projector and raised her voice. "We are in range of the Ciroz spaceport! First in second, second in fifth, third in first! Fourth, seventh at point-zero-zero-five degrees above the ecliptic," she ordered, with a crisp sharpness that took him off guard.

Clicking and tapping sounded through the air as the Imari standing at their panels operated the screens. Several Imari - which he gathered were the captains of each individual ship in the fleet - sounded in with reports, minute by minute. Cari reached into the hologram and dragged back out, causing the projection to zoom outward. He saw the system's white star floating like a diamond beneath the now drastically shrunk starport. There was also the fleet, arranged like an arrowhead towards the outpost.

Something sprouted from the outpost, hanging apparently motionless in space even though he knew the projectile was speeding towards them at a sizable fraction of the speed of light.

"Flaks one two and three, train on inbound projectile," Cari said smoothly. "Fire long range kinetic-energy salvo with ten second offset in one. In five, four, three, two, one!" Modrig _felt_ the jolt of the ship's weapons firing. It shook the floor and shot up into his legs, and he nearly jumped out of his fur in fright. But, despite Cari's words, there was no hint of any second salvo ten seconds later, and he flicked an ear pondering what that meant. Meanwhile, Cari continued to speak, asking for reports and readouts on the ships' conditions.

Eventually, she turned to him and Corcora, staring intently at her. "Please escort Modrig back to his quarters." She glanced up at the ceiling. "Fleet Array T-389V, please send her the estimated time of impact for our weapons." Her eyes wandered off, but she continued speaking to Corcora. "Please do ensure Modrig is here prior to the impact."

Corcora bobbed her head and briefly fluffed her tailfeathers. "By your will. Come along, Vulo." He bristled a bit at that, but nodded and followed after Corcora. But not before looking over his shoulder at Cari one more time, watching as she continued issuing orders and instigating some sort of schedule rotation.

Silently, they left and she escorted him back. With all the Imari at their stations - wherever that may be on the gargantuan ship - the already metal corridors seemed especially lifeless and inanimate. _'Should I be worried about the missile coming towards us?'_ he asked as they took an elevator down.

Corcora threw her head back and squawked a laugh. Modrig ground his fangs; he was getting tired of being laughed at and the heat-induced migraine wasn't helping his mood. "No no, not at all. The flak artillery will be more than capable of destroying it before it reaches any of our ships. Truth be told, I do not even believe it is inbound for _this_ ship." The elevator stopped and the doors opened, leading them into another of the nameless passages that wound through the ship like veins. She glanced at her tablet for a moment, then kept speaking. "At any rate, our cannonfire and lasers will arrive some time next day. I imagine you will still be awake then?"

 _'I will, it is my equivalent of afternoon,'_ he explained, tilting his head towards her. The hallway began to look and smell more familiar. They were close to his room. _'Is there anything to expect?'_

She shook her head. "No, not at all. It is a single outpost, staffed by maybe a hundred Stranglevines. It will not even slow down the fleet."

His gut sank. Hundreds of people. What did Stranglevinian families look like? Who would miss them? If the Khan was right about their being inundated with propaganda, was it right to kill them over something they'd never had a choice in? _'I see,'_ he said glumly. He glanced to his left. _'There it is. Thank you for bringing me back here,'_ he droned.

"My duty," she said simply, gesturing to his door and opening it for him. "As always, I will be out here." She took position next to his doorway. Not for the first time, he wondered if it ever got boring; he'd never seen her using a tablet or anything while waiting for him. For that matter, when did she _sleep?_

Modrig eyed her a moment longer, then hesitantly nodded. _'Thank you again,'_ he said, slipping inside his room and closing the door behind him. He sagged in relief as the cool air washed over him, already taking his headache with it.

He sat onto his bed and let out a shuddering breath. This was it, he was in the war zone. And given her orders before sending him off, the Great Khan wanted him to _see_ as they destroyed the outpost, and the hundreds of Stranglevines onboard died. There wasn't much information on them; what sort of families did they have? Would anyone miss them? It wasn't their fault they were like this. They'd been raised in it, drowned in it from birth, or sprouting, or _whatever!_

He took deep breaths and forced the dread down. The day was still young, doubly so since the Imari around him had much shorter days than him. He shouldn't waste it feeling sorry for aliens who'd kill him without a second thought.

 _I shouldn't think like that, it is not right,_ he scolded himself, stomach churning.

In the end, he decided to do his prayers early.

* * *

He spent the day poring over reports and sending replies. Eventually he had some free time, so Modrig accessed some news sites that the Imari allowed through their security. Not all of it was entirely reliable, but at the moment that wasn't the point. It was just something to occupy himself.

Though if what he was seeing was to be believed, maybe a more thorough search _was_ required. The King had passed a law guaranteeing an _incredibly_ generous social welfare program for all citizens. A tap to the business sector revealed that things were going... quite well. Record-breaking amounts of rare crystals were being brought in, asteroid mining companies were starting up seemingly by the hour when seemingly innocuous asteroid belts were revealed to be teeming with riches. Had all this happened in just the two months since his departure?

Modrig kept reading, idly finding his way to the sensationalist sections of the internet and browsing idle gossip and interactive-film trailers. He spotted a few he'd like to try, if he ever got off this ship.

The dreaded afternoon inevitably arrived. The door slid open and Corcora walked in, opening her beak in a scratchy yawn. He stood from where he was doing exercises on the floor and nodded towards her. "So you _are_ awake, excellent. Come along."

He gave her a silent nod. _'Very well,'_ he said, nose twitching uncomfortably. _'Back to the bridge?'_

"Actually," Corcora said, locking eyes with him. "The Great Khan has mildly revised her orders. I am to bring you to the cinema."

His thoughts stuttered at that, and he blinked. The only thing that made it into his telepathy was, _'There's a cinema?'_

Minutes later, he was indeed inside a cinema.

The air, as always, was humid enough to make his fur mat and hot enough to force him to wear his robes tied around his waist. Like the dining hall he'd been in, there was the distinctive Imari design of multiple rings of seats on top of each other, with rods to hop up and down between them. The walls were matte black, with the only lights being guiding lines on the floor so he wouldn't hurt himself. The center of the room was occupied by a glass hologram projector and several sound systems of inscrutable, flowing design.

Was this just to show movies? Not even interactive ones? He hadn't expected something so old-fashioned.

Corcora led him to the top seats, styled as the plastic nests the Imari enjoyed. She sat in one, and he carefully placed himself in another. "The projector should activate soon. Everyone else is at their stations so we'll be alone, as the Great Khan wished. She... worries about your reaction."

 _'I don't want to see this,'_ he said, gripping the seat hard enough to scratch it with his claws. _'I already know how it goes, anyway! The weapons arrive, disable the outpost, and then soldiers go in to seize it.'_ Maybe that was good. Maybe Cari Alvie would spare the Stranglevines onboard?

His bodyguard blinked and stared at him oddly. "What?" she asked with a clack of her beak. "No, that's not what's going to happen. Watch."

As if on queue, there was a _click._ "Good, you're here," Tev's voice sounded on the intercom. "I have some time off right now, since we don't actually need to fire any weapons. The Great Khan gave me a passcode for this thing! Here we go, let me just scale things apart a bit..."

Brilliant white light made him yip and raise a paw to cover his eyes. When they adjusted, he saw a pale outline of the Stranglevinian outpost hovering high above the center of the room. Off to the right there were other things. White dots and, behind them, white lines slowly crawling through the airspace to the starbase; bullets and lasers.

"I know you don't want to see this," Tev said as Modrig's ears flattened and his stomach churned. "I was built in the Grand Vulon Clan, I _know_ how it is. And I tried to tell her that, I did! But she was insistent I show you this, then cordially invite you to the arena."

"Ar - " He coughed to wet his throat; he hadn't really spoken aloud since arriving on the ship, had he? "Arena?"

"Celebratory duels," Corcora said simply. "Even a small battle like this is a victory. And we won't be fighting the actual _fleets_ of the Stranglevine Composters for years, so we'll take what we can get."

He nodded; that was true. The Composters didn't keep any fleets on the borders of his nation. They needed them all on the border with a federation - made of the mammalian Humans, the fungal Obevni, the mechanical Nurturers, and the reptilian Bryll - as well as a wormhole that connected the hearts of both the plantoids' and the Empire of Shadows' territory. Even if they'd started mobilizing immediately, it'd be years before the fleets were in any position to fight the Imari. He wasn't looking forward to that.

Modrig took a deep breath and trained his eyes on the hologram. The dozens of projectiles closed in on the outpost. Morbidly, he watched as the minutes ticked by, until the bullets came close enough. A transparent shell of interlocking hexagons rippled around the station, then flared and vanished as the projectiles punched through the shield. Some of them continued on to _thunk_ against the metal hull.

Then the laser beams, falsely displayed as streaks for purposes of seeing them, hit. He could _see_ the metal heating up and glowing, melting and being disfigured, blown apart as hull breaches opened and the air rushed out. The single missile turret atop turned to slag.

More lasers struck, peppering the outpost with gaping holes. Modrig's eyes narrowed in confusion; they'd already disabled it. What were they doing?

When he realized, he felt sick. They weren't just disabling the outpost. They were destroying it entirely.

The station's greenhouse shattered. A puff of air escaped into the vacuum. The structure was riddled with cavities, and as it twisted and shuddered under the kinetic force of the few bullets that'd hit it, it shore into pieces and began plunging into the white star it orbited.

"What?!" he shouted, rising from his seat. The pit in his gut turned into the repulsive horror that only came when witnessing a grave injustice. "How could they do that?!"

"I'm curious myself," Corcora said softly from beside him. He glanced over to lock his eyes with her large, black ones. "I'm curious myself," she repeated.

"There's civilians on those things!" What went through their minds as they were pulled out? What did vacuum exposure do to the Stranglevines? He couldn't imagine it was anything survivable. Did they have any sort of families? "That's a war crime! It's - it's - she can't do that!" he raged, clenching his fists.

"We never signed the Treaty of Qi," Corcora whispered, hopping off her seat and grasping his paws in her talons. "The Great Khan is under no obligation to hold to its terms."

"No obligation! What a great excuse! I suppose the Stranglevines are to be left alone since _their_ laws allow for turning us to compost, hmm?" he snarled, fur bristling.

"Modrig," Tev urged worriedly. "Calm down. This isn't good for you."

Wasn't good for him?! Why wasn't it?! He could... he could.

No, no. Modrig took a deep through through his nostrils and centered himself. Right, violence was not the answer. He recited some doctrinal verses to himself and brought his paws to his chest. The hologram turned off. "I believe I need to go lay down in bed," he said at last, slowly heading down the steps with Corcora hopping in a birdlike manner after him.

"The Great Khan invited you to the arena, remember," she warned.

"Please give the Great Khan my sincerest apologies, but tell her I am not feeling well," he near-snapped.

There was silence after that. He and Corcora returned to his chambers, and Tev was silent. He kept turning over what he'd just seen. The Imari Horde had just _destroyed_ the starbase entirely. Why? What for? He couldn't see a reason. It was just pointless, brutal waste of life, and that was all it was.

He had to remind himself that these were the _Imari._ They'd never had any qualms before of extorting his government of thousands of tonnes of food, of raiding poorly defended human settlements and abducting slaves, of fighting for coin to the highest bidder. They were barbarians and, now, war criminals.

With a staggered trudge in his gait, he stepped into his room and turned the lights off. Maybe he'd go to bed early. And forget what _Cari Alvie_ wanted. If she wanted him to stare at her crimes, then come see Imari punching each other at a party, then she'd have to force him. Modrig was determined about it; he was his own person, and he wouldn't go to their events.

* * *

 **Finally. This one gave me so much trouble.**

 **Please do leave a review, let me know what you think.**


	6. Chapter 5: Learning New Tricks

**I do not own Stellaris. Paradox Interactive does.**

 **Thanks to R. Moonstalker for editing.**

 **Chapter published 11/4/18.**

* * *

Cari Alvie

"Thank you for coming, Modrig," she said over the din. "This means much to me."

The Vulo didn't respond, but his small eyes did flick over her. Her understanding of Vulon body language was poor, but her psychic senses still picked up gut-churning unease, frustration at a lack of commitment, and powerlessness. That was a problem, and she'd have to work at it. Subordinates that resented their positions were prone to stir up trouble.

She'd already messed up by having him watch the Ciroz battle. Cari'd figured it would help him understand how serious the situation was, just how important their work was. Instead she'd nearly blown it and nearly ruined her long-term plans for Modrig.

Beneath them, the two competitors continued to fight while the referee - a pale-feathered Imari named Datri Peyot - kept close watch. They traded blows, blocked, and maneuvered around each other. She kept seeing openings for each of them to take and mentally urged them to do so. Sometimes, they even did.

 _'I don't get that much through the net on this ship,'_ Modrig said into her mind, crossing his arms. _'I was bored.'_

"Well, I imagine it's not the entertainment you are used to, but I _am_ pleased you are willing to give this a chance," she said.

The two contestants kept sparring, until one managed to tackle the other and hold him to the ground. Around them, everyone sitting in the arena leaned their necks forward. There was a fierce struggle, and Cari followed the action intently... until talons were held to the pinned Imari's neck and he went still.

"Call!" the referee shouted, and both Imari scrambled off each other. "Laniu Makrokk wins!"

The two briefly fanned their tailfeathers to each other, shook talons and made their way to the exit gate, babbling praises to each other while bobbing their heads. Two more competitors were called down and, after brief shows of respect, began to spar.

 _'It's all much more polite than I expected. Also, I'm surprised you're not down there fighting. Seems like the sort of thing you'd like,'_ Modrig said with a glance at her, levitating his tablet in place while it recorded. He glanced away and she sensed, for a moment, he feared that he'd slighted her.

He hadn't. "Would that I could," Cari laughed gently. "But alas, it was not to be."

 _'I suppose it makes sense. Endangering the head of state, and all.'_

She looked up at him oddly. "Modrig, the reason I cannot is because the list filled up."

He narrowed his tiny purple eyes at her, but said nothing more and instead turned his gaze back to the fight. She did the same, mentally noting small mistakes each contestant made. A little too immobile here, leaving an opening there, there was always room to improve. When she got the time to spar, she could use their mistakes to improve herself.

Cari found her eyes, however, occasionally glancing over at Modrig. More specifically, at how he held his tablet aloft with telekinesis.

A few more rounds came and went, until Datri announced that the day's fights were over. There were complaints and squawks by some, but by and large her people peacefully filed out to attend to the day's duties.

She turned to Modrig. "Well, that is my cue as well. But Modrig, I would ask a favor of you."

He froze in the middle of awkwardly standing from his seat. Cari made a mental note to import some alien-appropriate chairs next time the resupply ships came by. _'What is it?'_

"I am interested in learning psionics of my own. I understand your people have the ability to awaken such powers in others? I would very much appreciate having the procedure done to me." She held up a talon to silence the telepathic protest already thrumming in her head. " _Provided_ you have the materials to do so. Mind you this is not a demand, but rather a request." Time to sweeten the deal. "If you do this for me, I would owe you a favor."

 _'A... favor?'_ he asked, drawing back and eying her warily.

"Within reason, of course." If the procedure worked on her, she could then begin safely giving it to others. Not that she'd tell him that. "If you are interested, I will send you a table of times I am available. Please message me as to if and when you will do this." She bobbed her head. "We are all entitled to _some_ secrets, and this is little more than a fancy of mine." Cari rose and hopped from her seat. Behind her, her current bodyguards on shift, Reepi and Parda, followed her.

Pulling her tablet out from the crook of her wings, Cari tapped along it hurriedly. She quickly sent her schedule off to Modrig with some censorship as to precisely who she was meeting when, then stowed her device back away. She had a meeting with the head of the Engineering Guild soon, and she intended to be punctual.

The hum of the ship, currently stationary, was quiet around her as Cari made her way back to her chambers. Upon arrival she slipped in and her bodyguards took up positions outside her door. She hopped off to one of the walls of her room and placed the tablet in a perfectly sized square indent in the ground for it to charge. Sitting next to it, she scrawled across its surface until she found the meeting she would be due for soon. She spent the remainder of her time getting herself presentable; she adjusted the torc around her neck, waved an AutoBrusher across her body, and picked through her tailfeathers to adjust any that were out of place.

She finished with scant minutes to spare.

At the designated time, her tablet's surface blazed to life and projected a hologram above it, revealing an icy-feathered Imari with a band of polished platinum around his neck. "Cari, thank you for having me," he said, opening his tailfeathers into a broad arc. His image flickered once, then stabilized.

She bobbed her head and fanned her tail out in turn. "The pleasure is mine, Cuix," she returned. "Please, tell me, what is the matter? Is habitat construction behind schedule?"

He hooted under his breath. "Just the opposite, in fact. The new designs are quick to put together, among other advantages. That's part of the problem, in fact; we're running over budget. Accountant says at our present rate, we will be out of construction alloys in five years and two months."

Hmm. That _was_ an issue. Cari reached into her memory, back to before she'd been crowned Great Khan, back to when she'd led a raid against the very planet they were going to now. "In five months' time, I expect to have conquered the world of Sun's Scrutiny. It is a significant mineral extraction and processing world for the Stranglevines. Send me the figures you need to break even, and that is what you will receive of its spoils," she said, tilting her head back and forth.

They spent some more time addressing other concerns, but mostly they were material troubles. Cari was not an engineer, and Cuix was top of his field; most things he could handle internally. The meeting came to a close, she dismissed him, and the hologram faded.

No sooner was he gone than Cari was arranging for her _next_ meeting. She had some downtime from managing the fleet since they were being tended to by resupply vessels. Perfect opportunity to catch up on some administrative work.

Her head of the Health Department, who worked closely with Modrig's own subordinates these days, reported that instances of Sarakellion Fever were down by over ninety percent. Likewise, the Enforcement Department gave her figures showing a sharp decline in crime, as well as some quite satisfying budget figures; the royal treasury would be receiving their surplus. The Civilian Department reported significant growth, and nascent companies had begun developing among her people, trading with private elements across the rest of the galaxy. The tax revenue would go a long way towards funding her vision.

Regrettably, not _everything_ was good news. Espionage had nothing to report. The Nighthunt Voidwings were having some difficulty with a fortified starbase located above a black hole _and_ inside a dense nebula. Several of the colony ships outbound for the new habitats had been laid up by uncharted space debris. And their scientists were dragging their wings reverse-engineering their new Vulon technology; she didn't, naturally, want to remain dependent on the mammals for ship components. The Empire of Shadows and their vassals were still en route to fight their tributary's rebelling machines - who had, since, cheerfully rebranded themselves as the 'Techarus Eliminators' - and the Conjoined Species wasn't even discussing military action against the Stranglevinian government.

She had her lunch break in private, and followed up her meal by sending a talonful of smooth pebbles down her gullet. She worked out, then tore through the various books she'd downloaded onto her tablet.

Truth be told, every decision she made, every order and assurance she gave, made her gizzard do flips. The world was just so much bigger than her, there were just so many things happening at once, an incomprehensible network of changing desires and moving resources. But like always, she didn't let it get to her. Cari had a job to do, and she would see it through until the bitter end. Cowardice was not an option.

After her break, she resumed her work. No meetings this time, but plenty of bills sent her way. After consulting her sources, she signed some into being. Others she shot down. In each case, she made sure to always attach a document - or two, or three - explaining her reasoning. A _beep_ let her know that Modrig agreed to try to awaken psionic abilities in her. With talons shacking from nerves, she scheduled him in for late in the day.

She scrolled through her tablet's functions until she found the option to interface with her chambers. Cari accessed her room's climate control and brought the temperature down. Her species could adapt to the cold far better than the Vulo to heat, and she would do well to try and make him comfortable, given he was doing her a favor.

In moments the temperature started to plummet, the loss of heat sucking out the humidity from the air. Her beak felt dry.

Cari worked on several other, minor matters of state for the last stretch of time before the Vulo would arrive. Part of her was anxious, excited enough that she wanted to run and jump and hop around on her nest. Psionics. She had some already, but nothing on the scale of what the Grand Vulon Clan possessed. She could already picture herself holding out a talon and floating a goblet into it, already picture flocks of her people walking the vast corridors of their new habitats, speaking to each other telepathically, writing at the speed of thought, oh it made her want to - !

 _No, no._ She forced the energy down. It would not behoove the Great Khan to act like a caffeinated chick.

Time ticked ever onward, and before long it brought her to her appointment with Modrig. She made sure to have two water vessels delivered, one filled with ice. A servant came over and she let him in. He placed the vessels by her nest, she dismissed him without fanfare, and that was that. Cari sat in her nest, staring at the door patiently.

Not moments after he left, her door's camera showed Modrig approaching, led by his bodyguard. His crimson tail dragged along the ground and his tongue hung from his mouth as he panted. Cari swiped a talon across the air, and a hidden motion sensor picked it up. The door slid open and she clicked her beak thoughtfully.

"Ah, Modrig, please come in. Corcora, I will send for you when you are due to bring him back."

The yellow Imari dipped her neck in an uncannily jerky manner. "By your will," she said simply before standing patiently along the walls. The door closed behind her, leaving Modrig and Cari alone. He looked around and sniffed the relatively cool air. His tail lifted from the ground.

Cari gestured across from herself, to a spot on her nest. "Please. Sit." He did, wrinkling his robes in the process, and she offered him one of the water vessels. He graciously took it and took a long drink, closing his mouth around its thin pipe. "Before we begin, I would like to speak a little about business. My marketing department has urged me to compile a speech for both my people and the Stranglevines, for when we conquer the world of Sun's Scrutiny. I have done so, and given it to them for review, but I would like a second opinion. Who would you recommend among your subordinates?"

He dipped his head, still sipping his water. _'I have a human heading that field, Maria Fabbrini. You can forward them to her.'_

Maria, Maria. Cari wracked her memory, her eyes traveling all over her room. "She was assigned to... one of our frigates, yes? I should have her contact information. Anyway." She waved a talon. "On to why we are here."

 _'Yes, a transcendent awakening. I'd downloaded a book on it out of curiosity, before I even came here, and I fear there's good news and bad news.'_

That was not surprising. "The bad news first, please," she said, briefly locking eyes with him before continuing to glance at everything systematically.

 _'A full awakening requires resources I don't have. Psi amplifiers and large quantities of Zro, I'm afraid.'_ Of course. _'But, um, and I don't mean anything by it, but I've heard rumors that you already have some psionics?'_

She dipped her head, sending her crown of feathers bobbing. "I do indeed, but nothing on the scale of your people. Merely minor empathy and clairvoyance, I am afraid." Cari also made a mental note to look for a supplier of psi amplifiers and Zro.

 _'In which case, we do not need to perform a_ full _awakening. It will still take years, though. And I am not at all licensed, I'm just going off the book.'_

"Years, we have in spades," she stressed. "As to your license, what might go wrong if you try to do this for me?"

He shook his head, though a look in his tiny eyes suggested he knew what her response would be. _'Nothing - literally. Partial awakenings are a safe procedure, worst case I mess it up and you stay as you are now.'_

"Then let us begin, I say."

 _'Right.'_ Modrig's tablet floated out on its own and held itself in front of him. _'First, let's start off with some breathing exercises.'_

"Lead the way," she said, gesturing towards him.

 _'Alright. Um, close your eyes.'_ She did. _'Now breathe in...'_

He guided her through some simple breathing exercises. Several times they had to adapt things - minor differences between Imari and Vulon respiratory systems, of course - but it went well, and Cari could feel herself relaxing bit by bit, minute by minute.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

 _'You said you have empathy,_ yes?' he eventually asked. ' _Try to use it on me. Tell me what I feel each time it changes.'_

Cari concentrated, closing her eyes to more exactly feel the subtle _ripples_ in the air around her. Before long, she could feel something, and it coalesced into revulsion. "Disgust," she said, remembering to breathe slow and deep.

 _'Correct.'_

Modrig's emotion continued to linger, then started to ripple. If she had to guess, she'd say he was envisioning various things to induce emotions, but still remembered what he recently felt. It settled into...

"Nostalgia."

 _'Correct.'_

It changed again. "Indignation."

 _'Yes.'_

"Anger."

 _'Right again.'_

"Happiness with some residual anger."

Modrig breathed out sharply through his small, black nose. _'Yes. I was aiming for just happiness, but what can you do?'_ She wondered what he thought about that made him so angry.

They ran through the full gamut of emotions, leaving Cari feeling drained and tired from exercising her psionics so much in so short a time, like she'd ran too long without any water. "What is next?" she panted, opening her eyes at last.

Modrig opened them after her and uncrossed his legs - he'd crossed them at some point when her eyes were closed - and looked at his tablet. _'Clairvoyance practice,'_ he explained. He kept his paws still, but she still saw his telekinesis _pushing_ at his tablet and changing it. _'So there's an Imari card game, uh...'_ He hesitated. _'Outsider Roundup?'_

"No need to worry of offending me, Modrig," she teased lightly. "It is in the past."

 _'Right. So, I am going to generate four random cards, and you have to tell me what they are before I generate them.'_

At this, Cari's gizzard tightened. She'd never used her psionics to predict something like this, before. All she'd done was anticipate where enemy fire would come from in the heat of battle. "Might I ask the purpose of these tests?" she asked, trying to stall.

 _'See how advanced your powers are, as well as some exercise for them. From there we can move on to the actual awakening.'_

"I see. Well then." She shuffled her feathers and closed her eyes. "Begin when ready."

 _'Predict.'_

She focused, trying to glean a sense, a gut feeling, of what was to appear on his screen. "Warrior, Warrior, Galleon, Cruiser."

 _'Correct.'_ Cari preened happily at the affirmation and fought to keep from chirping. _'Alright, predict this one.'_

Cari trilled quietly in her throat as she thought. "Cruiser, Galleon, Sapon, Warrior."

 _'Three out of four, Warrior was Frigate.'_ A gravid pause filled the air. _'Why is one of the cards a Sapon?'_

She chuckled quietly. "Ancient history. I will have to tell you one day, but we had a run-in with the Sapon Remnant long before your people achieved spaceflight."

 _'Ouch.'_ He winced sympathetically.

Modrig continued to bring up cards, and she continued to try and guess them, sometimes with less than desirable success. Cari could have attributed it to fatigue from exercising her empathic abilities, but that was the coward's way out; she simply wasn't as good as seeing the future.

Time passed, and fatigue tugged at her greater and greater. When Modrig eventually called an end to it, she sagged forward in relief and opened her eyes. She glanced up at him and rose. "I suppose that should be that for today," she said. "Thank you again for taking the time for this, Modrig." She craned her head to the side. "And I _do_ wish to apologize for the incident with the Ciroz outpost."

He finished levitating his tablet into a nook in his robes and looked down at her with drooping ears. _'I just want to know why you destroyed it. You could have taken the Stranglevines onboard as prisoners, or sent them back as a show of good faith, you could have crewed it for your own - '_

She held up a talon. "I could not, I am afraid. You yourself already require much intervention to survive here, no? My fleet does not have the resources to tend to more than a talonful of Stranglevines, let alone the hundreds that would operate an outpost. I could send them as prisoners to the habitats, but then again run into the issue of tending to them, and how much useful information could they possess for us? How much useful information could _they_ tell their armed forces? I could not crew the outpost because it is also of no _use_ to us; it is less work to scrap it and build a habitat in its place. Modrig, I know you see it as senseless cruelty, but there _is_ method and there _is_ reason to everything I do. You will see in time, I give you my word."

 _'It's making my job harder,'_ he said, a whine in his throat. _'You should hear some of the chatter on their media outlets. They're not exactly fond of it, and it's going to make keeping their planets under control harder.'_

That might very well be true. Nevertheless... "Their people are warriors, however vile. They know the risks. In time, they will accept that it's far less than what they would do to us, even if right now they do not see it that way." She swiped something on her tablet and opened the door to the rest of the ship. Outside, Corcora blinked her nictating membranes sleepily. "If you have no other concerns, Modrig, you are dismissed."

He narrowed his brows at her, and for a moment it looked like the mammal did have something else to say. She didn't dare put a name to what he was feeling. Instead his eyes turned down and he nodded. _'Very well. If you want, write me in for the day af - no, tomorrow, at the same time,'_ he said. Then, after hesitating, he bowed lightly. _'Great Plan guide you, Cari,'_ he said, before leaving.

Corcora peeled herself off the wall with a tired chirp and escorted him away, and the doors closed to once again leave Cari alone. Once she was alone again, she cawed irately. Modrig was not happy. He would not be happy for years yet, though, and this reluctance was to be expected. He would need time to grow out of the soft ways of his home empire and realize that some people _couldn't_ be reasoned with. For some people, force was the only option.

He would see that in time. Everyone would.

* * *

Petals of Black

Their alarm went off, inundating Petals of Black in a shower of displeasingly hot light until they uncurled from their pod.

Around the chambers, everyone else was getting up promptly, speaking to each other in flashes of light from the four dew-laded fronds that sprouted from the very top of their long, sinuous stems. Petals of Black wondered what the alarm was for; a mission? Were their services needed for the protection of the nation?

Rhizome of Silver was the first to activate their walker, sprouting four legs from the metal shell that housed their roots, soil and leafy pod. Trunk of Gold was next. Petals of Black themselves was next to come crashing to the ground in their walker.

Seconds after all twelve of them were up, the blank screen on the far end of their humid quarters changed to show General Fronds of Blue, an elderly Stranglevine covered in dry, wilting leaves. "General!" they replied as one.

"First Transgenic Roots," the blue-tinted Stranglevine replied. "I hope you are all doing well this morning?" A chorus of affirmatives responded. "Good, because I am here to ruin it. These orders come straight from the High Executioner themselves. You are to report to Pod Seventy-Two for your mission, where I will be authorized to give you further orders. Move immediately!" With as much warning as it'd come, the screen went dark. They sprung into action.

"What do you think it is?" Rhizome of Silver asked, already heading over to the door and opening it with a gesture from their lower fronds.

"Maybe we're finally being asked to do something about those animals over on the eastern front!" Fronds of Ivory cheered.

"Yeah," Petals of Black joked quietly, bending their stalk meekly, "or maybe we're being called to shut down an Alien Liberty Initiative meeting."

Jeers and complaints followed her statement as they filed out into the spacious halls of their fort, metal limbs clacking on the ground. "Let the young shoots do it!" someone - Petals of Red? - said.

"I _hope_ it's something easy," Trunk of Green said. "I'm still rotting my last kill!"

The squad continued lightly joking with each other as they walked through the spacious, well-lit hall of the fortress, taking in the scents of the many potted plants dotting the scenery. Now and then some other soldiers passed by. None of them had been genetically enhanced like Petals of Black's group, so they were nearly half as small as them and hurriedly gave them space. Their group replied in kind with 'thanks' and 'good work's and 'good day, soldier's. Petals of Black remind quiet, though. They couldn't think of anything to say to the lesser soldiers that wouldn't come off as haughty.

After a few elevators and intersections, they arrived at the door to Pod Seventy-Two. Rhizome of Silver led the way in, with Petals of Black bringing up the rear and sliding the heavily reinforced door shut with a root-shaking _slam._

Pod Seventy-Two. Just the fact that they'd been summoned to Seventy-Two meant this was top-secret stuff. There were no yellow lights here to help photosynthesis, just ruddy red ones from stripes along the floor. Squat, blocky jammers hummed in the far corners of the equally squat, blocky room. Petals of Black, being taller than even the rest of their genetically enhanced comrades, had to curl their stem over to avoid brushing against the ceiling. CO2 vents hummed in the corner, the only noise in the hauntingly empty room.

The unassuming wall on the far end, patterned with metal tiles, silently slid open to reveal a black screen of glass. It flickered to life to show General Fronds of Blue again. With the larger screen, they could make out that the general was standing in the capitol's palace, Great Giver rising over the horizon behind them and casting golden rays on the ivory rails. Whether or not that was just a holoroom was something Petals of Black didn't concern themselves with. "Glad you could all make it. Mission is infiltration and assassination. I assume you're all familiar with," and here their lights grew mocking, " the _Great Khan_ of the Imari animals, Cari Alvie." Their squad jeered in response, especially when a picture of the avian appeared on the screen. Petals of Black remained silent but glowed a disapproving light.

"Indeed!" they continued, straightening up proudly. " _Her_ fleet, the Chosen of the Great Khan, clearly named for her humility, is ready to jump above one of our frontier mining colonies at a moment's notice. I regret to say, you will not be able to get there in time to stop the dodos from taking the world." Darkness reigned. Nobody spoke. "That is because you will be training with a new weapon the geniuses in the lab cooked up: BK-44, nicknamed 'Bark'. You will receive training in handling this weapon, and then you will depart to locate and eliminate the Great Khan. The High Executioner and their Council believe the animals' empire will fall apart without her uniting them.

"I cannot stress enough how important it is to carry this mission out," they said. Fronds of Blue leaned forward into the screen. "Estimations put the Imari at conquering not only Sun's Scrutiny, but also Joy, Scorch, Suntear, Paradise, Many Meadows, Floating Blossom, and Prudence before we can so much as fire a shot." Their frond-lights grew sharp in intensity and they straightened up. "But are the First Transgenic Roots going to let that happen?!"

"NO!" their comrades shouted. Petals of Black merely said a quiet, "No General."

"That's what I like to see! You have twelve ray-turns to soak up some light, and then you are to get on the Slashing Leaf magtrain over to the capitol. Directions have been transmitted to your walkers; head to the location and one Trunk of Olive - " A picture of another Stranglevine appeared in place of the Khan. " - will collect you and provide further instructions. Good luck, and make me proud. You are dismissed." The picture cut out, and the panels slid back over the screen.

The dozen of them were already walking out, keeping confidential chatter to a minimum. Petals of Black's mind whirled, however, and their veins burst with excitement and pride. A mission! It'd been so long since they'd been on a proper mission. Their last taste of action was a boredom-fest of infiltrating some bronze-age xenos and softening them up for invasion.

 _That_ had been easy. _This_ promised a challenge. They wondered how they'd get to the Khan. While they - err, _she_ , whatever - were on the fleet? Board it with drop pods and slaughter the bird in her coop? Ambush her on a planet? Oh it made their fronds shiver!

Petals of Black privately wondered what this new weapon, this 'Bark', was. They hoped to use it _real_ soon.

* * *

 **Please do leave a review, let me know what you think.  
**


	7. Chapter 6: Visitors

**I do not own Stellaris. Paradox Interactive does.**

 **Thanks to R. Moonstalker for editing.**

 **Chapter published 12/15/18. Happy holidays!**

* * *

Modrig den Tarrob

Modrig did not know which was worse.

On one paw there was the battered world of Sun's Scrutiny before him, its arid plains and scattered brush covered in strip mines - visible even from so far up - and devastated by the Imari's orbital bombardment. Even as he watched, tiny pinpricks of fire lit up as the fleet obliterated a weapons factory, or vehicle lot, or storage silo, often with grievous civilian casualties.

But on the other paw, there was the complete and total _lack_ of anything, forever.

Modrig firmly closed the live stream before spacesickness could claim him and thought about the planet. He didn't like what it represented. Five hundred million Stranglevines. Born - sprouted? - in fear and hate and raised in it their entire lives. What was it like, down there? He knew the Great Khan's ground forces had landed and were seizing power. He could only wonder at the death and destruction being wrought, the sheer weight of the misery and savagery crawling across this one planet, just out of view.

They should have surrendered. The Great Khan had even announced that ahead of time; 'surrender or die' had been what Modrig gathered from it. Naturally, they hadn't surrendered. Knowing the plantoids, they hadn't even bothered to parse the message. And now they were being slaughtered wholesale, with entire city districts being put to the torch.

Modrig returned to bed with an ear-flicking yawn. He crawled in, flipped onto his back, and levitated his tablet over. There was _one_ piece of good news from all this; somewhere in the fighting, the Imari soldiers had taken control of a long-range relay station. Once the planet was secured it would be used to broadcast the counterpropaganda they'd been developing for the last... had it really been half a year already? For the last half a year to the Stranglevine Composters at large.

But for _now,_ it meant he and all those others who'd been 'recruited' from the Grand Vulon Clan were authorized to make personal calls.

His tablet hummed and, after a bit of delay, lit up with his sister's disheveled face. Her dark red fur was haphazardly sticking up in some places. It was matted down in others. He couldn't see much with her blocking most of the camera, but what little he could see of her home behind her looked like it'd been hit by a tornado; bottles on the ground, overturned chairs and tables, and broken flowerpots all shrouded by dark blue light. Was it nighttime there?

Modrig blinked. _'Faram, is this a good time?'_ he asked. He usually spoke aloud with her, but just for privacy he'd use telepathy.

"Yeah, sure," she said, her voice coming through the tablet's telepathy receiver. A smile grew on her snout. "I haven't seen you in forever, what's the occasion?"

 _'Well, you've been following the news, right? The Imari are parked over a border world and are trying to conquer it,'_ he said sourly. Modrig wrinkled his muzzle. _'They've been fighting for weeks down there, but one of the structures they've just taken gives me an excuse to message_ _you.'_ He looked behind her and smiled. _'So, good party?'_

He had a moment to notice Faram's eyes narrowing before the view turned into a distortion of moving shapes. When it stabilized, Faram's back was to a wall and there was no trace of the chaos. Modrig snickered. "Laugh it up," his sister said, an adorable glower on her face. "Bet it's nothing compared to what those savages throw."

Modrig shrugged. _'They clean up after themselves, at least.'_ Her glower deepened. _'But in all seriousness, it's not as bad as I thought. You should see how serious they get when the fleet's in battle.'_ Or, rather, not see them. Whenever the fleet had gotten in range of an outpost the corridors of the ship emptied out as all the Imari went to their stations. The only glimpse he'd gotten of the Imari in a fight was back when Cari had called him onto the bridge.

"You've been in battle?!" she shouted, gripping her tablet and bringing it closer.

 _'Calm down, it's not like in the films. They just fire their weapons, and like a day later we get reports of an outpost being blown apart. I don't even notice it if I don't pay attention.'_

Faram eyed him sideways. "... I don't know, I don't like it," she said cautiously, wrinkling her black nose. "What's it like? I mean, generally."

 _'Well.'_ He glanced up at the dark corners of the room. Tev had camera access. No doubt he was being monitored by the Imari in general, and he did not want to see what they'd do if he gave away anything sensitive. How much could they tell by Faram's responses to him?

Not for the first time, he wondered why they even needed Corcora to spy on him.

 _'I don't know how much I can give away. Um, try not to imply I said anything incriminating?'_ She nodded briefly, her right ear flicking worriedly. _'The ceiling's so short everywhere. I keep having to go to all fours like I'm running a marathon. The air outside is so hot and moist. Their days are practically lined up with the galactic standard, so there's that too. And everyone always calls me 'alien' and 'Vulo', even my bodyguard.'_

"They gave you a _bodyguard?_ " she asked sadly, splaying her ears against her head.

He nodded. _'I don't like the implication either._ _Corcora... Tenju, I think was her last name. She was assigned to me as a bodyguard. Well, assistant too, but I haven't got anything for her to do.'_ Modrig shook his head. _'Enough about me. What's it like back home?'_

Faram's mouth quirked upwards in a wry smile. "Well, since you asked." The screen jostled as Faram stood and walked somewhere. The dark blue brightened the slightest bit, and sound poured in. Faram adjusted her tablet to look down the highrise her apartment was in, to the streets of her home in one of the colonies.

It was _packed._ Between the ice-colored skyscrapers, marching along the streets, were countless hundreds, no, _thousands_ of people from all species in the empire. They chanted, hoisting signs above their heads both holographic and pawmade, tracing looping patrols through the streets. Faram must've tapped something, because his view zoomed in and the audio cleared up.

"Use the fleet!" came the chant. "Use the fleet! Use the fleet!" Their signs were scrawled with similar messages, ranging from 'Peace in Our Time' to 'Remember Ligira' to pictures of Vulon ships belching plasma at what he assumed was meant to be a Stranglevinian world.

After letting him get a good look, the protest swept out of view and Faram carried him back inside. "So, yeah, the MSA's been stirring things up ever since the savages started doing their thing. Think we aren't doing _enough_ to help the Imari, can you imagine?"

He sighed and ran a paw down his face. _'Of course. Anything else new over there? How's work?'_

She found one of the chairs that hadn't been upturned and reclined into it. A shiver ran across her crimson fur. "Miserable. I keep thinking we're close to figuring out the modifications, but everything turns into a dead end." She waved it off. "Whatever. At least I'm getting plenty of ten-times overtime pay."

Modrig's ears shot up and he sat ramrod straight. _'HOW much?!'_

His sister gave him a toothy grin. "Yeah, it's pretty sweet! Everyone got a major raise lately, with how well the economy's doing."

 _'I'm not getting paid anything,'_ he groused. _'Are things really that good? I've read about it but I haven't been able to actually see it.'_

"It's great, actually. Everybody has a roof over their heads, food in their bellies. Though I guess some people are still adjusting to having so much available; some of the colonies are having riots where everyone storms the shops and raids them for food. Honestly, you'd think they were pampered nobles with what they're demanding."

He pulled his lips back. _'Yikes. Take care of yourself, Faram.'_

"You're telling _me?_ Anyway, I gotta go. Stay safe, bro." She reached towards the tablet and the connection broke.

Modrig sighed and rolled over in his bed. He'd already done everything that could be done to prepare for sending out their broadcasts. All he could do was sit and wait, wondering when Sun's Scrutiny would be conquered.

* * *

Cari Alvie

The talons on her feet dug into the loose sand. It was warm and yielding.

Her beak nibbled at the air. It was pleasingly hot.

She blinked her nictating membranes to moisturize her eyes. The air was displeasingly dry.

She flexed her hands. The tug of gravity was smooth and unyielding, monolithic even.

Cari was here. She was _here!_ She was standing on a planet. Septillions of kilograms of matter beneath her. It felt like only yesterday she had last been to Sun's Scrutiny on a raid, robbing the Stranglevines of raw mineral resources and bringing back slaves to work on Imari habitats. The resources had since been processed, and when she'd been crowned she had emancipated the slaves.

And now she was... _here!_ Standing on an actual _planet!_ The first planet her people had owned in uncounted generations, with their banner raised above every city and town and mining district. Despite the vicious fighting put forth by the plantoids - Stranglevines had no qualms about using chemical weapons, some of which even worked on her species - Cari had seized the centers of power. They were in control. Colony ships bearing surplus population from overcrowded habitats were en route, bearing flocks of her people looking forward to a new life.

The magnitude threatened to overwhelm her. This world on which she stood was... huge. So much surface area. And when she looked off into the distance, past the sparse bushes and wavy dunes, the land _dipped_ beneath a horizon. There were mountains carving a jagged skyline. The sky was blue, and the local star was a distant, searing spot of white. Wispy white things - clouds, actual _clouds!_ \- drifted above her in patterns like someone had wildly slashed their talons at a sheet.

And it was hers. The first of many. Cari had done it. _They_ had done it. This was proof. Her quest wasn't foolish. Her dream wasn't impossible. She could lead her people to a glorious future, she could guide the galaxy to peace and prosperity.

She could actually do this.

The former clan leaders Akrok, Emeraldplume, Physeta, and Sapi - along with everyone's respective bodyguards - stood behind her, each of them also marveling at the planet. Further behind them were the two ships they had taken to the world's surface once the last pieces of organized resistance were confirmed to be exterminated. Cari had already handed out the administrative tasks for managing the world to trusted governors and law enforcers.

The five of them weren't on this world just to soak in the natural beauty, though. While it was certainly a plus, it was also to see about finalizing a project she'd left in Physeta's capable talons.

Two guards approached them from in front, holding ropes that led to a Stranglevine.

Like most aliens, the plantoid was taller than an Imari. This one was at about Modrig's height. They rested in what was best described as a high-tech pot with wheels, colored black to absorb sunlight. It had two hooks on the side that the ropes hooked into. Atop it, the alien had a leafy pod that, supposedly, the boneless aliens could curl their entire bodies into. Rising from the center was a thin, wiry stem tinted a fruity orange, with sticky dew-fronds along the underside of its stem.

At the top, the stem split apart into four more of the fronds, moving about languidly and tasting the air. It turned to each of them in short, jerky movements.

The guards came to a stop and saluted, falling back to stand next to Cari and leaving the Stranglevine alone before her. She pulled her tablet from the crook of her wings, tapped through to a translator application, and held it up to face the alien plant. "Hello, can you understand me?" she said, the surface of her device displaying a pattern of lights as Cari spoke.

There was a pause and then the Stranglevine replied, flashing bioluminescent lights on its four top fronds. Her tablet responded with a tinny artificial voice. "I-I do, esteemed Imari. I assure you, whatever you've heard about my people - "

"Quiet," she said, holding up a talon. Cari's tailfeathers, flat against the ground, swayed through the sand. "I understand you are known as Fronds of Honeydew, yes? And that you are the leader of the Alien Liberty Initiative on this planet?"

The alien pulled itself in, hiding the lower half of its body in its pod. "T-That is correct, on both accounts. I oversee the Alien Liberty Initiative in what little capacity we can scrape by."

She nodded slowly, keeping her eyes roaming around the alien's form, taking in the subtle textures of its plantoid skin. "And tell me, what has your movement accomplished in recent years? It has been decades since the last Stranglevinian purge."

Fronds of Honeydew shrunk further into his - their? Cari would have to ask - pod. "I regret to say not much, e-esteemed Imari. With the fleet idle, the Composters Party has turned its focus inwards. Our numbers have never been great, but in recent years our cells on the core worlds have been captured, and we bleed members elsewhere constantly."

"So nothing lately," she surmised. "No trafficking out terrified aliens from labor camps. No leaking state secrets. Nothing. Fronds of Honeydew, do you know who we are?" she asked, briefly gesturing to the clan leaders behind her.

"I-I do not mean to offend," Fronds of Honeydew trembled, sinking deeper into their pod. At this rate the plantoid would be eye level with Cari before long. "But I'm afraid I do not."

"I am Cari Alvie, Great Khan of the Imari Horde," she said, placing a single talon on her breast. With a quiver of her tailfeathers she gestured behind her. "These are my most trusted diadochi - my generals, if the translator failed."

"The Great Khan?!" they yelped. "Y-You came here personally?! W-What do you wish of me and - _please don't kill me!_ " Fronds of Honeydew begged.

Cari shook her head. What a skittish creature. "I actually have an offer for you. How would you like help in overthrowing the, what did you call them, Composters Party? I would have you gather your flock and coordinate with my Head of Prosperity, Modrig den Tarrob. You will receive his contact information and he will direct you to one of his subordinates."

"What?" Fronds of Honeydew rose slightly from their hiding place. "T-Truly, Great Khan? What would I be doing?"

"He will have more details for you, but you'd assist my appointed governor, Strigi Umloti, in maintaining law and order. The colonists arriving here will be armed and trained to defend themselves, of course, but I am very much interested in keeping lynch mobs to a minimum." She tilted her head and squawked quietly. "Do you have a personal tablet?"

"I - I do," they said, rising from their pod to their full height. A panel on their metal pot lit up, showing an alien tablet's display. "A thousand thanks for this opportunity, you are ever magnanimous! I swear I will not disappoint you."

"Ensure you do not," she said, putting ice into her voice before sending Modrig's contact information to him. There was a bit of loading time as the data struggled to adapt to their tablet's design, but she noted with pride that it succeeded with little delay. Her Vulo would find a place for him, either as a subordinate directly or as an aid to one of his existing ones. "Guards," she said, without turning around. "Please escort Fronds of Honeydew here to the orbital habitat and send them to a secure apartment. Stranglevine-compatible, obviously. After that, you may have the rest of the day off." _Then_ Cari turned around, facing the four former clan leaders. "I believe that is our business on this world complete. Let us be off and give the colonists some space. Come," she bade, leading the way to the one remaining shuttle.

The five of them, and their guards, made their way up the ramp and inside. Within the shuttle's spacious, rounded room, the walls were painted with various hunting scenes from their long-lost homeworld. Perches sprouted from the peat-brown floor and rested next to rounded windows. Cari's crest feathers rose a little higher as she stepped inside; the air was no warmer, and smelled of metal, but the sudden humidity was a welcome relief.

Cari Alvie hopped onto one of the perches and settled into it, her tailfeathers spilling onto the floor behind her. The doors shut behind them with a hiss of pneumatics, and then the engines fired. There was no outrageous acceleration like rockets of old would suffer. Cari merely felt weighed down for a brief moment, and then they were off.

The impulse thrusters were silent and smooth, not at all like the plasma thrusters Imari ships had relied upon for so long. But the silence did not last long.

"A planet!" Sapi marveled, staring out her window and quivering her azure crest. "Did you feel the gravity? Feel the _wind!_ "

 _I know! It was so big and so incredibly humbling and I think we might actually be able to do this!_ she thought. "Indeed, it truly was something, no?" Cari said instead, glancing at Sapi with a happy glint in her eyes.

"The wind was incredible," Physeta added.

"I just hope we can hold _on_ to it," Akrok groused from where he perched. "You're staking a lot on your pet aliens, Cari."

There was a twinge of irritation in her heart, but Cari squashed it. He was a close advisor for a reason, after all. "That is correct," she mused, closing her eyes to think before opening them and fixing her gaze on Akrok. "Though I _did_ come up with other methods of control before the opportunity with the Vulo landed in our nests. No reason not to combine them. Akrok, can I trust you with rounding up the more troublesome members - riot leaders, government officials who had any talon in purges and oppression, the like - and liquidating them?"

He puffed out his rusty feathers and saluted. "Consider it done."

"Oh, also, before I forget, is everything alright with Corcora? She has not had to protect Modrig yet, correct?"

He bobbed his head. "Correct. Maybe giving him a bodyguard was overzealous."

She considered it, tilting her head and scratching the walls with a talon. " _Maybe._ "

With that settled, they turned their attentions back to the windows. The blue sky was growing dark, now, as they slipped free of the atmosphere. Cari could make out the sprawling city districts of the Stranglevines, tinted with a greenish hue even from so far up. There were blocky, grayish mines as well, tunneling deep into the planet's mantle to get at its metals. Searing deserts, sparse grasslands, and even some forestry near the poles slid by as they rose higher and higher until the entire world was there to see.

It looked so fragile, hanging there in the emptiness.

That only made it all the more beautiful.

* * *

She had to admit she was jealous of her subordinates. While they only had orders to hand down, and then they could join the celebrations and drink themselves silly, Cari had to deal with a fundamental problem with having Stranglevine citizens.

Feeding them.

It wasn't impossible to make food for the carnivorous plants. Not by a long shot; they'd made nutrient-rich compost for the Stranglevine slaves they'd abducted, after all, and she'd started building hydroponics specifically for feeding her planets. But Sun's Scrutiny _imported_ food for all its five hundred million population. The infrastructure needed to feed them in time to prevent mass starvation just wasn't coming along in time, sadly.

Which was why, while her diadochi were out getting drunk and bedding the ship's concubines, Cari Alvie had to speak to robots.

Inside her quarters, she once again set up everything for a conference. The hologram was ready, and she'd bathed and preened and been attended to by servants. All that was left was for the meeting to begin in three, two, one...

The air in front of her crackled and took the form of a colossal machine.

How punctual.

The hologram was of a Nurturer, no taller than Cari but _long_ like a scuttling insect and standing atop an appropriate plethora of jointed legs. Its 'tail' flattened into a broad fin like that of aquatic arthropoids, and a dozen leafy solar panels extended from its back. The earthy hull was polished to a shine, made of broad and flexible plates that shifted and curled in a satisfyingly organic manner.

The Nurturer's head was little more than a round optic at its front, with four simple grabbers beneath it. Instead of a standard eye, there was simply a spot of yellow light with four spokes around it.

"I bid you welcome, Nurturer intelligence," Cari greeted. "Thank you for holding this meeting with me."

"Oh, esteemed Great Khan," the machine said in an eloquent voice, "the pleasure is all ours! Do tell, how may we serve you?"

"The star charts will not have updated yet, but my forces have finished seizing control of the Stranglevinian world of Sun's Scrutiny. I am given to understand you possess the ability to produce food for any species in the galaxy?"

"You flatter us!" it said, lowering itself to the ground. The screen-face briefly turned into a facsimile of a human smile, with blushing cheeks. "It's an exaggeration to say we can do it for _every_ species. The stagnant ascendancies do not permit us the opportunity to study their biology, we are afraid. But!" It showed an excited face. "We think we know what you're getting at. You need food for the Stranglevines?"

"Until we can set up enough hydroponics for this and future conquests, yes. My civil planners have put the time table for that at one standard year. With decreasing deficit over that time, obviously, as the farms become more and more productive. Would you be interested in setting up a monthly trade of compost for my newest subjects?"

"Interested!" it said, rising up on its metal legs. "Why of course we are. This is in the name of keeping starvation at bay!" It flashed a serious face, with narrowed eyebrows and a thin mouth, at her. Its voice turned monotone. "Though we would be remiss, of course, not to offer you and your people our signature automated lifestyle?"

By which it meant annexing her empire and taking over its functions while her people lived pampered lives in climate controlled domes. "I am afraid I will have to decline," she cooed, flicking her head to adjust her crest. "The offer is appreciated, Nurturer."

The monotone lifted and it gestured grandly with an arm. "Disappointing, but we will respect your decision. As for providing you with food, we must complete our earlier statement. We are _interested,_ but in the pursuit of practicality we insist on something in return. We, as representatives of the federation of Conjoined Species, request full sensor view of the Imari Horde in exchange for the sustenance you desire."

Ah. She had been expecting a price, but this was a telling one. "Would you tell me which of your member states insisted that you be able to keep such close watch on us?"

The Nurturer actually _scoffed,_ forming a face that implied it was rolling its eyes. "The Bryll, naturally. As much as we adore the dragons, they're peeved at you. By which we mean _you_ personally, and insist on treating you as the enemy until you reform to a democratically elected system of governance." It held its hands together nervously and 'looked' to the side. "It's actually why we have not begun military operations against the Stranglevines ourselves. Every time we call an emergency vote, their representative vetoes. Always 'Imari are no different from a Blood Court' and 'Let them weaken each other'. We _try_ to recommend our patented relaxation aids, but he never accepts."

Cari opened her beak a tad and sighed through it. "That is disappointing to hear, but not unacceptable." She _needed_ that food. "For how long do you wish to have sensor access?"

"Five hundred million Stranglevines, correct? Allow us to do the math... a mere decade. Seventeen years if you wish to confine sensor access to military installations." Now it turned outright _giddy_ , flapping its tail against the ground. "In exchange we the Nurturer Systems will provide sufficient food, monthly, for the aforementioned number of Stranglevines to consume up to twice their daily requirements for an equivalent period of ten-to-seventeen years - ahp ahp ahp! As a token of our goodwill, esteemed Great Khan," it said, cutting her off when she tried to remind it that she did not need the food shipments for so long. "The first delivery would, of course, be sent immediately, followed by at the end of each calendar month."

"In which case I find your offer acceptable," she said. "Seventeen years of military sensor access in exchange for the food you described, Nurturers? I shall have the contracts drawn up and sent your way. Thank you for being so reasonable about this."

"No no," the machine said, stepping its hologram forward and reaching out to shake her talons even though they couldn't touch. Cari humored it by pretending to shake. "Thank _you,_ esteemed Great Khan. We are always happy to serve. Please, if you ever find yourself on our Masters' Soil, allow us to give you the guests' suite. Until next time?"

"Until next time," she said, ending the meeting with a gesture. The hologram flickered out and Cari released a breath. She'd actually done it. Nobody would be starving on her watch, and she could spin getting food imports in a positive light with ease. It was, after all, the _Nurturers_ providing food. They always jumped at the chance to help anyone.

 _Knock knock!_

Her-daily-psionics-session-with-Modrig-how-could-she-have-forgotten-there-was-just-so-much-going-on-and - Cari got a hold of herself. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Repeat until her heart calmed down from its fluttering pace. She turned the air conditioning down as far as it would go for Modrig's comfort, then said, "Enter." The door opened on its own, and a din of noise billowed inside.

Cheering hoots and squawks filled the air. Cari's bodyguards, still stationed at their post, stared down the hallway with a humored bounce in their stance. There weren't many people to be seen, mostly shadows around the bend as party-goers rushed around the ship. Modrig was nearest the door with his ears flat against his skull and fangs bared from between his lips. Corcora, yellow feathers standing out sharply against the metal, looked on with bemused mirth. Her psychic powers picked up the traces of revelry and enjoyment echoing down the hall. A pair of Imari she couldn't place were being publicly indecent.

 _'I'm, ah, here,'_ Modrig said, his telepathic voice strained. She waved him in and he rushed forward. The door shut behind him and he shivered all over. Once he got that out of his system he looked down at her and gave a strained smile. _'How was your morning - err, day, Cari?'_

"Satisfying," she said, already moving over to her nest and sitting in it in preparation for the lesson. "May I get you something to drink?"

He held up a paw sheepishly. _'I already have, thank_ _you.'_

"Before we begin, have you spoken to Fronds of Honeydew yet?"

Modrig flicked an ear and cocked his head to the side. _'Fronds of... Honeydew? Can't say I have, who is that?'_

"A Stranglevine, the leader of the Alien Liberty Initiative on the world we have conquered. In ages past, their group - "

 _'Organized the smuggling of aliens being killed off after their worlds were conquered, I took history.'_ He looked at one of the paintings hanging on her walls, deep in thought. Then Modrig turned back to her with a light smile. _'Oh! You've sent them my way, right? Thank you, having a familiar face for the Stranglevines should help massively. Things are... not good down there. Have you seen the videos?'_

"I have seen a great many videos, Modrig," she joked politely. "Please specify."

 _'Things are bad down there. Like something out of an old history vid from before the Grand Clan's rise.'_ He pulled his tablet free from his robes and prepared something on it. He turned it around and played what appeared to be a scene from one of the cities on Sun's Scrutiny. The architecture was all metal tinted green, with buildings sprouting up from deep within the dense rock. Some of the more distant structures, out of the camera's focus, had visible leaf-like balconies near their tops.

A substantial portion of the city appeared to be on fire.

Stranglevinian crowds filled the streets, like a hoard of potted plants had sprouted limbs and gone marching. Except there was no discipline and order behind it. It was a mob, hefting signs and smashing in the doors of workplaces. Other plantoids cowered away from the rioters, and whoever was filming must've been in a rush because now and then the view blurred with motion. A _crack_ filled the air, and then the crowd dispersed from unseen shooters - her own enforcers, if she had to guess.

The video stopped and Modrig rested the tablet on her nest, looking at her worriedly.

"That was always going to happen," she said sadly. "You know it."

 _'I do. It's just - we've never had to deal with anything like this in the Grand Vulon Clan.'_ His ears drooped and Cari's psionics picked up his unease, rotting in her gut as if it were her own. _'I wonder if I'm even qualified for this.'_

"Do not worry, Modrig. For starters you are not alone in this task; I did not ask for you alone, did I? Second, I am certain you can rise to the occasion. Thirdly, I have some measures of my own to deal with the more rowdy Stranglevines that refuse to be cowed." He glanced at her with wide eyes and a spot of alarm, but said nothing. "At any rate, what is to be today's session? More precognition?"

 _'Some precognition to warm up,'_ he said, tone and mood still dour, _'then I was thinking we could begin trying basic telekinesis.'_ As if to demonstrate, his tablet levitated itself and set itself in front of Cari, then drifted back to him. She saw him pull up the same card simulation before gesturing to her with a paw. _'Whenever you are ready.'_

"Of course," she said, her tailfeathers twitching in anticipation. Telekinesis? Truly?! She could hardly wait!

They ran through a few test runs, with Cari guessing every card correctly before they even generated. She was getting better!

Frigate, Raider, Galleon, Imari.

Raider, Raider, Cruiser, Warrior. She could do this!

Eventually Modrig put his tablet down and emitted some odd, mammalian grunt. _'Alright, I think that's good. Let's move on.'_

"Truly? We can?!" she asked excitedly, raising her tailfeathers. Then Cari got a hold of herself and relaxed. "Ahem, wonderful. Please explain what I am to do."

The touchpad shifted over to her. With a strange look in her direction, Modrig explained. _'I turned its sensitivity way up. Just tap anywhere on it with telekinesis and it'll react.'_

Hmm. She looked down at it and tilted her head. "How _do_ I do it?"

 _'You don't tell your arms and legs to move,"_ Modrig explained, lifting an arm and flexing the claws on his paw. _'You just_ do _it. It's like that. When you're first learning, it's like a phantom limb from inside your head. It starts very weak at first, so you'll need some time flexing it to get the 'muscle' built up enough to do anything. You'll... probably not get any reaction for a few weeks.'_ He smiled. _'I remember when my sister was first learning, she started shouting at her blocks to move.'  
_

Cari cackled a laugh. "I would love to meet her one day. Let me try..." She narrowed her eyes at the tablet and did as Modrig said. She pictured a long, spindly arm with many joints sprouting from her forehead, reaching through the air and hovering over the tablet. Cari focused hard, imagining flexing the limb.

Predictably, nothing happened. She focused harder, trying to imagine the same feeling of sensing emotions or predicting enemy fire, and...

The intercom crackled to life. Modrig jumped in fright with his fur standing on end and her head snapped up.

Fleet Array T-389V's voice sounded into her chambers, full of panic. "Emergency, emergency! This is not a drill! We are being boarded!"

Then the sirens began to blare.

* * *

 **Please do leave a review, let me know what you think.**


	8. Chapter 7: Captive Audience

**I do not own Stellaris. Paradox Interactive does.**

 **Thanks to R. Moonstalker for editing.**

 **Chapter published 2/25/19.**

* * *

Modrig den Tarrob

Like a switch had been thrown, Cari went from the uncharacteristically enthusiastic psionics student to the stone-cold Great Khan of the Imari Horde. She rushed to her tablet - she'd placed it in some square indent in the floor, the telltale indicator of a hologram meeting - and spoke into it. "Get me General Koraci!" With a gesture of her talons, the far door opened. Outside, the party was over and only silence reigned. Cari's bodyguards rushed in and took up positions next to her while she opened a wall and rummaged through a closet, before grabbing something black and pinning it above her heart. Corcora hurried to Modrig's side and looked up at him with grim, black eyes. "Corcora, escort Modrig to a secure location," Cari said without turning around.

"Consider it done," his bodyguard said quickly.

 _'Wait, what's going on?!'_ Modrig shouted.

Corcora hopped over to the nest, grabbed his tablet, and forced it into his grip. He grabbed it by reflex. "We're getting out of here, what do you think?!" She reached for her breast and tapped something hidden beneath her feathers. Whatever machinery she had hidden there began to sprout black plates with the sound of clanging metal, growing over Corcora's body and rolling up her tailfeathers until she was entirely encased in dark armor, gold plumage replaced with dark metal. Her eyes were replaced by teal spotlights. A glance to the side revealed Cari and her bodyguards undergoing a similar transformation. "Come on!" she shouted, grabbing his right arm in a metallic talon and tugging him with irresistible strength.

Corcora tugged him into the hallways outside and he balked at the tropical environment. Cari furiously shouted orders into her tablet right behind them as they ran. They reached an intersection and his bodyguard tugged him to the right, away from the Great Khan.

Somewhere, far away, was a clang, followed by the screech of tearing metal. Modrig jumped in fright and nearly hit his head in the ceiling. _'Where are we going?'_ he asked the Imari tugging him along.

"Escape pods," she said simply. "If we're being boarded, but the fleets' sensors didn't detect anything, then it's a small force. Assassins probably, for the Khan."

 _Not the 'Great' Khan?_ he wondered in the back of his mind as he ducked down onto all fours when they entered a particularly small passage. _'Then how do we know where they are?!'_

"Good idea." Corcora stopped and craned her neck to the ceiling. "Tev! Which way are the invaders?"

"Take the next left!" the AI's voice came over the intercom. "And _hurry,_ they're using some kinda - " Then there was a burst of static, accompanied by yet another terrible screech.

The ceiling _dented_ downward. He and Corcora stumbled back and he nearly tripped over his paws. Another screech, close enough and loud enough he had to flatten his ears, came accompanied by a shower of sparks from the ceiling. In the span of a heartbeat the metal _tore_ open, and something conical, thick and glossy black with a tornado of moving mechanical limbs around it, burrowed into the ground and vanished as suddenly as it'd come.

He reacted far too late to ever have saved himself, yipping and leaping back what seemed like an eternity after the drill-esque thing had vanished. Corcora leaned over the hole, and he crawled forward to look down with her. There, going down and off to the side, was a thick tunnel like something made by a burrowing animal on the more dangerous colonies. But instead of dirt and stone, it was metal plates and electronics that'd been torn apart in an almost perfectly round hole. The only thing marring the perfection of the carving were multiple gashes and streaks, like claws had scraped along the walls.

His mouth hung open and a wheeze escaped his mouth. Every strand of fur on his body stood on end. Corcora hummed and spoke - which, with the pyramid of unmoving metal over her beak, looked alot like telepathy. She was saying... something, but Modrig barely heard her. His eyes were locked on the hole, and his mind kept replaying how easily the machine had torn it apart. If he'd been standing just a few steps ahead, underneath it when it came down...! His heart sped up and his lungs felt tight. Air, he needed air!

"FOCUS!" Corcora shouted, grabbing him by the head and forcing him to look at her. "Can you jump across?" He nodded shakily. "Then follow my lead." She tensed and hopped across the gaping hole. She landed with a flutter of her arm-wings on the other side. Modrig tensed his limbs, curled up, and sprung like a coil.

For a terrible, sickening moment, he was above the hole. Wider than he was tall. Deep enough to break something if he fell. He felt for certain he'd stop dead in the air and plummet. But then he kept moving, and his paw pads touched down on metal. A strangled noise slithered out from his mouth as he stood up as much as he could.

"This way," Corcora insisted, reaching up to his paw and tugging him along. "Left!" she said triumphantly when they came to a two-way junction. They turned down the left, and a duo of gunfire cracks echoed somewhere far behind him. Gunfire. Actual _gunfire._ Someone was being _shot_ close enough for him to hear!

Modrig entirely lost his sense of direction as Corcora led him up and down and left and right. Which part of the ship were they even in? The front? Near the engines? _'Are we close?'_

"We are," she confirmed, taking another turn through the tunnels that ran like veins throughout the ship. "Escape pods are right heeee..." she said, trailing off. The passage before them was completely collapsed, metal panels and solid blocks of electronics cluttering the misshapen corridor like a puzzle with the pieces forced together until they fit. "Rot," she swore.

 _'It's blocked off!'_ he said hysterically, his limbs trembling and his head faint with adrenaline. _'Where do we go? Is there another way? This was just the fastest, right, it was - '_

"Get a hold of yourself!" she snapped. "There's more than one set of escape pods, and more than one way to each." She looked left and right, humming quietly for a moment. "This way," she said at last, darting back the way they'd come. He whimpered quietly and followed after her, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. Who knew when it'd implode down on him? When one of those drill things - were those actual _Stranglevine_ soldiers?! - would come and sheer through his flesh?

The sound of angry bird chatter came from up ahead, prompting Corcora to hold out a wing and stop him. "Friendlies!" she shouted. They rushed forward and came face to face with a group of four armored Imari in a diamond-shaped formation. "Corcora Tenju," she greeted. "I was escorting this VIP to the escape pods, but the path's collapsed. Can you provide escort?"

"No way," the lead Imari said. "We've been ordered down to floor C, Stranglevine soldiers have been reported in the bay." He turned to look up at Modrig. "And get this mammal a mask, they're using some sort of chemical weapon. Nothing like it in intel, they cooked up something new."

Corcora brought a talon to her face as the others pushed past. "Of course they are. Alright, just... just let me think," she said.

 _'But where do we go?'_ he asked, fingers laced together.

Corcora turned on him and snarled, actually _snarled._ She shook her head and backed away. "I said let me think. We keep going. There's no gas mask sized for you, so we need to... to... get to the nursery and from there circle back around," she concluded, already heading away for the umpteenth time, with Modrig following helplessly after her.

Every twist and turn there was the distant shriek of metal. Every slope down there was - somewhere, far away but close enough for his ears to make out - the scratchy sound of avian screaming. Before too much longer, they came to a sealed double-door, and Corcora tapped something on a glowing panel next to it.

With a hiss the doors slid open, revealing a vast chamber with a ceiling much taller than he'd have thought the diminutive aliens would've needed. Balconies ringed the walls halfway up, and hundreds of honeycomb structures on the upper floor were locked shut. Carved into the ceiling at an off-angle was a gargantuan tunnel of devastated wiring, and in the middle of the chamber, tall enough to nearly scrape the ceiling, was almost certainly a Stranglevinian soldier.

It was twice his height, covered completely in armor as black as sin, so thoroughly there wasn't a petal of the actual alien itself visible. On its base was something that looked like a large pot, sprouting a multitude of metal legs to scurry about the ground. With the metal covering it the Stranglevine appeared as little more than a flexing, narrow cone that ended in a sphere where the four fronds that made up its head would've been.

Gunfire split the air and made him duck down, ears flattened at the sharp volume. Imari soldiers on the walkway above fired down at the Stranglevine, holding out their armored talons and shooting bullets from the palms. But like a cyclone of metal more and more arms sprouted from the plantoid's suit, placing themselves in the line of fire and sparking whenever they blocked a shot. It pointed back at the Imari and returned fire, equally if not even more deafening. One of the avians went down and his eyes followed them, nauseous horror rising in his stomach as the soldier's body went down, down down, bounced on the ground and left a bloodstain and - and - and - and - !

He wrenched his eyes away and followed his bodyguard. Corcora rushed towards an exit, and Modrig followed her without thinking, but he still kept his eyes on the Stranglevine. It skittered to the side on its robotic limbs with a deafening _clang clang clang_ , gripping rails and hooking into the metal walls to pull itself along the floor and up the side of the room like an insect.

Something flew out from it, and Modrig's eyes followed it. It was a ball, like a piece of machinery had broken and fallen out from the alien. All the Imari ducked and looked away, what was going on?!

"Modrig, don't - !" Corcora began.

 _FLASH!_

He screamed when the grenade exploded in a nova of light and sound, and the shockwave physically pushed him back along the ground. Modrig's paws flew to his eyes, but too late. Even with them closed there was an insistent green splotch anywhere he looked and the world, now hauntingly silent, spun around him nauseatingly. Desperately, he reached out with his psionics and felt the glowing minds of a dozen people around him. There was the Stranglevine's mind, the soldiers firing down at it, and Corcora still close by.

He reached out, groping at thin air, and gasped in relief when Corcora's talons closed around his wrist and pulled him forward. He stumbled and nearly tripped, but soon Corcora's mind-glow shoved him down and against something hard. A wall. He was laying against a wall. Why was she stopping?! There was a giant murderous plant alien right there! He could still feel its mind-glow, close enough to touch, they had to - !

"Modrig," he heard faintly. "Modrig, can you hear me?"

 _'Barely,'_ he said, his own telepathy booming compared to the silence. _'Can't believe I looked at it. Stupid.'_ Abruptly a cough rose in his chest. He hacked up a few wads of phlegm.

"You're a civilian, don't worry about it." Humph. "Can you see?"

He opened his eyes then instantly regretted it. Everything was blurred, and the green spot was still pervasive. Eyes watering, he closed them again. _'No,'_ he moaned. _'Just minds with my psionics.'_

"It'll have to do. Let me help you up." Mechanically strengthened arms helped him onto two legs. "We're going to loop back around. Just take it easy."

 _'We've been walking forever,'_ he complained. _'They just keep blocking off the path, we keep having to, having to...'_ He trailed off, but did his best to follow Corcora when he felt her mind moving away.

Slowly but surely, his vision began to clear. He blinked his watering eyes furiously, as if he could wipe the afterimage of the stun grenade from them by force. They itched, too. In fact, if he thought about it, every fur on his body prickled and stood on end, itching.

 _Crunch!_

The wall behind him burst open and he yipped, running forward and glancing backwards against his better instincts. From the newly formed hole in the wall was the orb-capped visage of an armored Stranglevine. One of its mechanical arms came up out of the hole and gripped the metal floor, and another emerged to face him and Corcora. This one was like a pipe, long and hollow, and with a hearty _thunk_ a canister flew out of it.

He'd learned his lesson from last time. Modrig flattened his ears and looked away, closing his eyes tight.

But there was no explosion of light and sound. Just the bone-rattling rumble of the Stranglevine tunneling to elsewhere in the ship, and a faint hissing.

Hissing?

The canister, still spinning with the momentum of its toss, was spraying something from its ends. It was like fog from dry ice, but with an unnatural brownish pink tint to it.

"Ah!" he shouted, reaching out with his telekinesis on instinct. He imagined a ball forming around the gas, then compressed it in and lifted the gas canister. It formed a rippling sphere of mist, already dense enough to shroud the weapon itself from view. Stumbling, Modrig backed up with the contained gasses following him at a distance. His eyes still stung, so he closed and rubbed them.

"Modrig, what are you - oh no," Corcora said, turning back to face him. "I imagine that's the chemical weapon they were talking about," she said faintly, staring up at it.

He grunted and breathed out hard through his nose. The pressure in his psychic 'bubble' was getting harder, and he was forced to expand it from the size of his head to the size of his torso. _'It's still releasing gas,'_ he said, panic rotting in his stomach and sizzling his nerves.

"Airlock's not far, let's go get rid of this thing."

They ran, with Modrig keeping the toxic gasses hovering just overhead. He was getting a headache from keeping it contained; the canister was _still_ releasing poison, slowly but surely raising the pressure within his barrier. He kept slipping, and the swirling orb kept getting just a _little_ bit bigger.

Up, across, down, down, right left, down. It seemed every new corridor they went there was a sparking hole torn through it, so recent the edges were still red-hot. The worst was when the hole was torn from floor to the ceiling, forcing them to carefully crawl across the gap while still keeping the ball of chemicals together. But then thankfully, mercifully, they arrived at a wide hall lined on one side with rows upon rows of glass doors. Beyond each was a wide cubical chamber with walls covered in vents. All of them were empty, and all of them had a sealed durasteel door at the far end.

Corcora rushed over to the closest airlock and slid a piece of the wall - a panel he hadn't noticed in his panic - aside and furiously tapped along the holographic display hidden behind it. She balled a fist and punched it, growling, "No, screw the safeguards... there!" Silently it slid open and Modrig frantically levitated the gasses in. With another tap, Corcora sealed the door.

The moment there was something solid between Modrig and the chemical weapon, his telekinesis ended like a string had been cut. The bubble of force vanished and the accumulated gasses exploded outward in a rolling tide of pink and brown. He yipped and jumped back as the gaseous death leapt for him, only to feel silly when he realized that it was safely contained.

 _'It's in,'_ he called to Corcora.

Without responding she slammed a fist into the control hologram. The far doors of the airlock tore open and the deadly miasma was sucked out so fast, he could've blinked and missed it. They slid back shut and began to slowly repressurize. "Alright," she said, stepping back. "Good, we - oh no, what are you doing?"

Modrig had slipped to the floor and leaned against one of the smoother panels on the walls, panting heavily. _'Just give me a moment,'_ he managed to say before erupting into another coughing fit. Was that a spot of blood in his phlegm? His airways felt rubbed raw, his muscles _twitched_ under his fur, vibrating like he was being electrocuted and there was a sucking pit of weakness in his gut. By the Great Plan, this _heat!_

"No, we keep moving. You're probably breathing in traces of that stuff in the air, we need to get you out of here and to a clinic, pronto." Corcora hauled him up. "Good news is, the escape pods aren't far from here."

 _'Okay, okay,'_ he managed, stumbling on his feet. The fingers on his right paw didn't want to cooperate, and there was a persistent headache just beneath his forehead from having kept the psionic bubble around the chemical weapon. _'Let's get out of here, please.'_

They set off again. Thankfully, true to her word, they didn't have to go far to get to the escape pods. His sense of direction was long gone, but he still got the vague impression that the long hallway with doors to the escape pods sat right on top of the airlocks they'd come from. Door might've been doing it a disservice; they were thick vault chambers, with locking mechanisms he couldn't even imagine. Probably even had a thin coating of neutronium.

Corcora grabbed the wheel, tapped a pattern along its spokes, and heaved it to the side. As it spun it slid down, eventually flattening into the door as it vanished into the floor. He rushed without prompting into the escape pod's interior. The layout jumbled, like it couldn't decide what way it wanted to be 'up' and which one 'down'. Cots stood up from the ground, and up ahead a captain's seat sprouted normally from the floor. Did the escape pod not have artificial gravity generators?

"Get in, strap in," Corcora said, closing the door behind him and shoving him forcefully into one of the cots. He stumbled and stood against the upright mat of gray plastic. There were a set of brown buckles outrageously low, so he had to curl into a ball the size of, well, an Imari to properly secure himself. Modrig glanced to the side; there was a compartment locked away into the walls. He flicked it open with his telekinesis - his headache pulsed at the effort - to see it was filled with cans of water and bags of birdseed. Of course. He closed it.

 _CRASH!_ Modrig jolted and turned to look behind him. With his eyes he could only see the door, but he sensed a gargantuan mind-glow behind it. It was another one of them, wasn't it? It'd found them! They were going to -

All the air _squeezed_ out of his lungs as the escape pod shot out of the galleon, with a sound not unlike a choked cough. The Stranglevine's mind flew off into the distance, too far for Modrig to sense. With a heave of effort he pulled himself back onto the cot properly as the forces compressed him against it. With a glance forward he saw Corcora standing up in her armor, with metal struts keeping her attached to the controls.

And then they _accelerated._

To say he grunted would be to lie and say he could've made any sound at all, with his lungs crushed flat. His eyesight blurred and he closed them to avoid being nauseated any more than his stomach pressing against his spine already was. He felt a sickly withering sensation throughout his body, as if the oxygen he'd already breathed in was being squeezed from his blood. Bugs crawled inside his brain and he felt woozy.

Just when he felt like he was going to pass out, the pressure relented and artifical gravity _finally_ turned on. _'What kind of escape pod is this?'_ he said. _'Acceleration like that hasn't been needed since, since...'_ Damn it, his history lessons were failing him. _'Since long ago.'_

Corcora unlatched herself from the front of the ship and hopped back. "Beats me. Your people were supposed to upgrade our ships with your technology, but I suppose the engineers didn't ask for the escape pods to get the same treatment. In any case, we'll be arriving by the habitat in a few minutes. Feel free to get up."

With fumbling paws, Modrig undid the straps around him. Even dulled down, his claws shook so hard he nearly tore them to ribbons. He stumbled out into the central corridor, found the wall farthest away from the doors, and sank back down. His heart still hammered in his chest. His skin beneath his fur was still raw, and a hacking cough rose up from within him. Adrenaline still filled him with a strength-sapping buzz. Now that they were out of immediate danger, panic began to well up inside him and tighten around his lungs, making it impossible to breathe.

"Oh, _this_ again," Corcora muttered. "Civilians, I swear."

He ignored her, muttering prayers in his head. _Great Plan show me the way, guide me to it, give me the knowledge that I am where I need to be. Give me the knowledge that I am where I need to be. Give me the knowledge that I am where I need to be..._

Meanwhile their shuttle drifted on through space.

* * *

Cari Alvie

She tapped a talon on her foot against the metal ground, looking over General Koraci's crimson feathers as he worked. He sat on a cushion, watching a dozen screens at once and tapping furiously on his tablet to control them. The screens showed the camera feeds of various soldiers fighting through the IHE Midnight Tenu, corralling and being corralled by the Stranglevine strike team onboard her ship. It'd been a long, long time since Cari had directed any sort of ground action personally, but he looked to have it well under control.

Though it _did_ burn her pride that she'd had to flee to the system's habitat, rather than stay on the ship and fight off the plantoids alongside her soldiers. But however honorable that would have been, the smart thing was to stay out of the way and let them do their jobs.

"Keep up the good work," she told him before turning away.

Cari stepped out of the cramped, depressingly dark room into the main foyer of the habitat's military headquarters. The heads of her intelligence agency milled about behind her, glancing at beeping screens built into the wire-covered walls, and she chanced a look out the window into the habitat at large.

While designing the new models with her engineers, they'd taken inspiration from the Siltheshen Swarm's architectural designs. The results showed; rows and rows of houses and workplaces went all along the walls and up the ceiling, held in place by antigravity technology in a way that looked not unlike a hive of insects. From afar it looked cramped, but that was illusion; the actual residences were tightly packed, but had ingenious paths and walkways going between them. With less room dedicated to getting around the habitat, people could have _more_ homes in less space.

Imari were flocking about the streets, moving up and down the elevators and transportation tubes. They clustered around shops built into the walls, milled in and out of restaurants, and she even saw a teacher leading a muster of chicks into a museum. And that was only the level she was on; more floors extended all the way to the top and bottom of the habitat, each as densely packed.

Turning away, she approached one of her subordinates. "Ereni," she said, locking eyes with the other avian's crimson eyes. "What have you found?"

Ereni held up a tablet and tapped it to display a paused video. It was the outside of the Midnight Tenu. "They came in pods scattered around the outside of the hull," she said. "See the spots? Here, here, and here." She pointed with a talon each time, drawing Cari's attention to a little speck of black on her flagship.

"Why didn't we notice them before?" she asked, sick worry growing in her gizzard.

"Special materials coating," Ereni said crisply. "We managed to dislodge one and examine its material, we think it's experimental stealth technology they've cooked up. Went right past even the Vulo's tachyon sensors."

Cari narrowed her eyes. "If so, that means there can likely be many more of these coming to other places in our nation. This habitat strikes me as an attractive target, if they have such substances. What can be done?"

"Star Transit telescopes arrayed around the outside of the habitat could do it," she said. "The pods are fully visible to light, just not sensors. Telescopes on the outside, sweeping back and forth, will notice any time a pod blocks the light of a star. It won't stop them from coming on its own, but it'll give advanced notice and some idea of where they are."

She nodded, making her crest of feathers bob. "And how practical would this be to implement?"

Ereni thoughtfully nibbled at air with her beak. "It'd be a little tedious to set up the telescopes on the outside of our habitats, and to do maintenance on them, but the actual wiring and having them sweep the sky would be simple."

"Draw up a budget estimate and get back to me," Cari said, her eyes hard and talons clenched in a fist. "Carry on." As Ereni turned away she tapped along her own tablet and sent a message to the habitat's administrator, telling him to schedule a decompression drill. With that done, Cari's beak tightened angrily. Mere hours ago she'd been top of the world, her heart soared and her gizzard light, at the thought that she really could succeed in her mission. That conquering Sun's Scrutiny was a _sign,_ was _proof_ that she could do this.

And as if to humble her, the universe immediately decreed that her flagship would be boarded, torn apart from the inside, and pumped full of corrosive gas. Star's sake, they hadn't even spotted their actual _fleets_ yet. Her people were strong and she had faith in her command of tactics, but it was telling that the Stranglevine Composters had never, not once, been attacked first until she'd come along. For now, the stories of their strength were just that, stories. How long until she was in the tale herself? How many more tricks and subversions and assassinations could she survive?

 _Beep._ She brought up her tablet and checked the caller. Ah, Modrig's bodyguard. Hopefully some good news. Her golden face appeared on the screen, with a backdrop of white hospital walls. "Cari," she greeted. "I've delivered Mr. den Tarrob to the habitat. He inhaled trace amounts of whatever chemical weapon the weeds were using, so he's being checked up in the gene clinic. But he is in good talons now. Orders?"

Some good news indeed. "Once he is treated, bring him to me in the habitat command center," she said. "I wish to get a sense of how this affected him." After all, this would've been his first taste of violence, no? "Dismissed."

Corcora saluted. "By your will," she said, before ending the feed.

There were several other matters for Cari to tend to. Fleet Array T-389V turned out to still be alive on her ship, but the intercom systems had been destroyed. She'd have to give the AI a reward, it'd been the first to notice they were being boarded and had likely saved a great many lives by raising the alarm. She also had to get an estimate to how bad the damage to her ship would be, how long to repair it, and whether or not she could do these repairs while traveling or if the Midnight Tenu would be dockbound for the foreseeable future. The estimate couldn't be done quite yet, as there were still hostiles on the ship, but it wasn't something she was looking forward to.

Eventually, General Koraci laughed and released a series of musical hoots. While sending off messages to her other subordinates, she stormed into his command center and stared down at the sitting Imari. "Yes, Koraci?" she asked.

He stood, lifting his body off the ground so that his legs were visible again, and turned to her. His eyes were upturned and glinted happily. "Cari, I've wonderful news. The last of the Stranglevine strike team has been fought off. The chemical weapon they used is being vented safely, with a sample kept for study. Some of the soldiers and chicks got mangled by it pretty bad, but nothing some time in a gene clinic won't fix. We even managed to capture one alive!"

 _That_ made her stand up straight, her crest feathers rising and tailfeathers opening wide. "Truly?"

He nodded vigorously, doing little hops as he stared at her. "My soldiers disabled their power armor and are even now in the process of transferring them to a contained cell, in little more than an oversized flowerpot. There was some complication about a suicide poison in their old suit's soil, but it was taken care of."

She cawed happily. "Splendid indeed." Hmm. To keep the prisoner on her ship, or sequestered in a habitat? After a moment, she decided to keep the plantoid aboard the Midnight Tenu. They may be a useful bargaining chip in the years to come. "What is being done about the vessels they used to invade?"

"Being dislodged, investigated for traps, and then brought in for analysis as we speak," he replied.

"Excellent! Contact the engineers and have them determine the status of the ship. Once they have looked it over and come to a conclusion, message me. I'm having a system put in place to check for more incoming pods, so stay on alert for more until we confirm there aren't any more heading our way." She glanced at her tablet, read the message on it, and nodded. "I must take my leave, Koraci. Take care."

Cari turned and left while the General gave his farewells to her. Her bodyguards following her, she headed past several huddles of working Imari towards the headquarter's doors. She strode out, briefly folding her tailfeathers to fit through, and opened them again when she was on the other side, breathing in the clean, sterile air of the habitat now that she was free of the cramped rooms of the military HQ. The low murmur of noise from the habitat's denizens rose up around her now that she was outside.

The Vulo was there, as was Corcora. His robes were lowered and tied around his waist since he wasn't in the arctic cold that his species preferred. His tongue lolled out of his jaws as he panted heavily in the heat. The psionic glow in his eyes was dull and his ears were flat. His paws clenched and unclenched against the fabric of his clothing.

"Modrig. How do you feel?" she asked kindly. "I cannot imagine this was easy for you."

 _'... I don't want to talk about it,'_ he said quietly, looking away and sniffling his nose.

She nodded, looking this way and that. "I understand. The first battle is always the hardest, even for our chicks." Cari made a mental note to hire him a therapist. A Qiran one - they were legendarily easy to get along with. "Is there anything you want?"

 _'I just want to go to bed.'_ He continued looking at the ground.

"I see." Without looking over to his bodyguard, she continued, "Please bring Modrig somewhere to rest. Get him some medicine to make sure he sleeps deeply and dreamlessly, too. That will be important these next few nights." Her eyes continued to wander, but she directed her attention to Modrig. "I want to apologize for getting you caught up in this, Modrig. Rest assured I am taking measures to ensure this will _never_ happen again."

He looked up at her and furrowed his brows. _'We'll see.'_

That tickled something inside her. Was Modrig growing a backbone? Good. She stepped closer to him and took his paws with her talons. They shook in her grip, and he snapped to look at her. It always struck her as pleasantly strange, the way other species maintained eye contact to give attention. "It _will not,_ Modrig. We were caught once by their cloaking technology, but now they have shown their wing and it will not work again. Right now, take some time off. Corcora, go with him and make sure he takes care of himself. I understand, like most of his people, he has a rigid exercise regimen he tries to adhere to. Ensure he does."

"Done," she said, her tailfeathers flat. The disrespect was forgivable.

"In that case, I must take my leave. I have a prisoner to look in on." And, now that she thought about it, her own workout had been pushed aside by the attack. Well, it would have to wait a little longer.

Cari sent off a message to a professional interrogator in the system, and strode towards the shuttle bay. Time pay this captured Stranglevine a visit...

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